


No Replacements

by Rynn336



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopian, M/M, Slow Build, Slow To Update, but like Chiaki is dead, kind of Hinanami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 51,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynn336/pseuds/Rynn336
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime isn't always sure why he doesn't just run away. He definitely doesn't have it as bad as some people, but by no means is his situation favorable. His only friend is dead and he's dangerously close to being in debt to the Intendant of his city. He may be a Noble, but there is nothing noble about the mistakes he's made. He's teetering on the brink of what, he doesn't know. But then he meets Nagito. A nobody, a simple (possibly insane) thief, and the one who changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> I want to start by saying this is dedicated to everyone who read my series "Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic." You'll be happy to know that this shouldn't be quite as despairy (not a word, I know).  
> Now, I might not complete this work. I'll post a few chapters, maybe two or three more, and depending on how I feel and what the reaction to it is like, I may or may not continue. But for now I'm excited about this, and I hope I stay invested. I hope you do too!  
> And before you even read this, there's another thing I have to say. I do apologize for my assertiveness, but DO NOT USE MY WORLD IN ONE OF YOUR STORIES OR FOR ANY OTHER REASON WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I am planning to write a novel using this universe, so this fic doubles as a way for me to get used to the world. It is mine and mine alone, and I trust you all not to use it without asking me first. And if you ask me, hey, maybe I'll say yes!  
> Special thanks to my friend Kirsten for helping me come up with this idea. You're amazing!

Hajime has never liked the way people look at him.

The moment he steps onto the dirt of the inner districts of the city, he can feel the glares roaming over his fine clothing, the raven insignia on his shoulder, the dark tree branch tattoo trailing down his neck from his ear and disappearing beneath his collar. It’s not as if their hatred isn’t warranted – as one of the eight Nobles reigning over the city, he’s done plenty to earn their loathing – but it irks him, saddens him, that he’s such an awful person in their eyes.

He stares at the ground now as Junko walks beside him, and he can sense her malicious grin without even glancing at her. The panther on her sleeve brushes the raven on his, and it takes all of his self-control not to shy away from the contact. “So,” she says.

He holds his tongue.

“I heard there was a little…skirmish here a couple of days ago.”

He nods silently. She lords over the outermost district, and, locally, at least, she’s second in power only to the Intendant. Getting on her bad side would be suicide.

“And, for some reason I can’t fathom, you hardly tried to intervene.”

He bites his lip.

“You may speak.”

“Lady Enoshima, I did intervene, but they were rioting, and I felt it my duty to prevent any casualties to my personal guard and lesser Nobles before quelling the violence. When diplomacy wouldn’t work, I was forced to withdraw.”

“You were. And now the Intendant and I are stuck cleaning up your mess. You do realize, don’t you, that to pay carpenters to fix the damage to your manor could cost us thousands of Grands, right?”

“I…I know.” _Grands that you’ll be pulling from my monthly subsidy anyway,_ he wants to point out, but he has a feeling she won’t take too kindly to that.

He scans the people bustling about the streets as she continues with her lecture. A tiny gaggle of ragged children runs by with pastries tucked into their threadbare jackets. A haggard-looking woman, her features soft and youthful and her eyes tired and sick, ducks into an unmarked building, and Hajime can hardly stand to wonder what she might be doing there. Boys his age, probably apprentices to artisans, run back and forth on errands from their masters. Girls who can’t be more than three or four trudge along behind their mothers on their way to get their food for the week. Maybe for the month.

This is his district. He almost shudders with disgust in himself.

“This won’t happen again,” Junko says with terrifying certainty. “I trust you, and I don’t care how many people die, I don’t want this sort of disaster happening again. For one, we won’t pay for it. And moreover, I’m afraid there will have to be…consequences.”

“Yes, my lady.” He gulps.

She nods and turns to him with faux sympathy sparkling malevolently in her eyes. “I know you’re broken up about Lady Nanami, but you need to straighten yourself out. If you keep moping around like this and making dangerous mistakes you’re going to end up in some uncomfortable situations.”

He stiffens at the mention of Chiaki. His best friend, his personal attendant, but so much more than that.

 

Hundreds of years ago, the country was divided and constantly at each other’s throats. When one of the many city-states of their land declared war against another – Hajime can never remember why, it always seemed so senseless and arbitrary to him – the overcomplicated web of alliances dragged the entire country into the fight, resulting in a bloody, all-out war that left all sides tattered and bankrupt. The king at the time, coward though he was, couldn’t stand to watch his people tear each other apart any longer, and along with his advisers eventually came up with a sort of solution. The two halves of the country would split off into two individual nations, united instead of broken up like they were, and as long as tensions were high, instead of fighting, six seventeen-year-olds, symbols of the new generation, would meet at the border to discuss ways in which the two nations could make peace.

Even now, the two nations are plotting each other’s destruction, but they are bound by their laws not to attack or start a war. Even so, at the annual meeting, sometimes one will send soldiers to attack if diplomacy fails.

This year, Chiaki was one of those chosen for the Parley, as people have come to call it. She was too smart for her own good, and even serving as a mere servant and friend to Hajime, she caught the attention of the king, who sent her to the border with the other teenagers. The two groups couldn’t agree, and the other kingdom’s soldiers attacked, killing all but one of the children, a boy who supposedly disappeared.

The kingdom returned Chiaki’s body to him in pieces.

 

“I…” He’s speechless, unable to shake the image of the bloodstained, makeshift birch coffin dumped unceremoniously in front of his door, her limbs strewn about the bottom of the box, her head turned so her pale brownish eyes stared into his when he opened the door.

She pats him on the shoulder, deceptively friendly, and turns. “I’ll see you around, Hajime,” she croons. “Let’s try not to make our next meeting like this.”

He stares at the ground as she walks away.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this.


	2. Ashen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry these chapters have been so short, I'll start trying to make them longer. I just wanted to post now before my workload increases. (I'm in high school but I'm enrolling in a few college classes too so I'm trying to prepare for the avalanche of homework.) I wasn't all that confident about this one. I'm gonna try to plan stuff out more in the future so that stuff like this doesn't happen again. But I hope you like it! Enjoy!

With a sigh, Hajime continues down the street, his hands still shaking from his conversation with Junko. She’s always known exactly how to hurt him. She knows how to hurt everyone. It’s been a talent of hers since they were little kids.

Not that they’re much more than kids now. At seventeen years old, Hajime still feels like a child, and is often called such by adults. But with the horrifyingly short lifespan of Nobles – due to execution and assassination and multitudes of other things – it’s customary for the oldest child to inherit the family crest when they turn sixteen. The parents remain at the manor for a year to show the new heads their duties and how to fulfill them, and then they step down from their position as Nobles and move into the inner city, leaving the teens to fend for themselves.

So while he may be legally an adult, it feels no different than when a tiny Junko would manipulate a tiny him into doing bizarre things when they would tag along with their parents to meetings.

Not to mention he still has an insatiable sweet tooth.

He needs a pick-me-up. He turns and hurries back to the inn where he left his horse, and he mounts quickly and rides back to his manor at a steady canter, watching people scurry out of his way as he makes his way toward the outskirts where the aristocracy lives, their respective gigantic estates sprawling out in a spiral pattern across the verdant countryside. When he gets to his own manor, he leads his horse into his stables and pulls the door open to see his butler, Chisa, standing tall beside the stairs, her eyes glued to the pocketwatch gripped tightly in her fingers. She looks up and hurries over. “Sir, you must tell me when you leave, so I may accompany you,” she scolds him. “None of the servants had any idea where you were, and you were gone before the sun was up. If something had happened to you we would have had no idea.”

He smiles at her reassuringly. “It’s alright, I just had to meet with Lady Enoshima about last week’s business.” Her eyes darken. “Is Teruteru here?”

She hesitates, as if wondering whether to push the issue. “Yes, sir. He prepared breakfast for you just in case you returned.”

He brightens and nods. “Thank you, I’ll go find him.”

“Wait one moment,” she says. “We received a letter this morning from the Intendant.”

“The Intendant?” He feels the color drain from his face.

“Yes.”

He stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat. “Right. Bring it to my office once I’ve finished breakfast. I don’t want to read it on an empty stomach.”

The corner of her mouth quirks upward. “Yes, my lord.”

He sets off toward the kitchen at a brisk walk, the smell of maple syrup and warm dough already wafting toward him down the hallway.

But as he approaches the kitchen, he can hear voices, then shouting, then a loud crack. And another. And another. He picks up his pace, running into the room.

“Thief!” Teruteru, his portly little cook, shrieks, brandishing a broom. The emaciated boy in front of him lies sprawled on the tile, so skinny Hajime can see his ribs through his thick brown jacket. His frizzy white hair sticks out in every direction, and his eyes are closed. For a moment Hajime is afraid he’s dead, until he realizes the boy is breathing, the rise and fall of his back barely perceptible.

Teruteru brings the shaft of the broom down across the boy’s shoulders, hard, but the boy hardly twitches, the only sign of pain the tiny furrow between his eyebrows. _Crack!_ Again, and again, and again. _Crack! Crack!_

Hajime watches in astonishment. “Wait, Teruteru,” he begins, but the chef doesn’t even turn. “Wait!” Hajime orders, diving in front of the boy. The broom halts in midair millimeters away from his forehead as Teruteru stares at him.

“M-my lord…” he says.

“Put that away,” Hajime says. “What did he steal?”

Teruteru quickly sets the broom down on the ground, leaning it against the counter. “I caught him trying to make off with your breakfast.”

“Did he eat any of it?”

“Part of the toast.”

Hajime nods. “Make more. I’ll deal with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Teruteru hurries off to do as he’s told, and Hajime turns and kneels beside the boy. “Are you alright?” he asks.

The boy blinks his eyes open, his irises a strange shade of grey, so colorless and blank Hajime feels he could almost be sucked into the empty vacuum of self-loathing. “Wh…huh?”

“Are you okay? That was quite a beating.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” the boy says, confusion still clouding his gaze.

As he helps the boy up, Hajime is struck by the sheer lifelessness of his entire being. His eyes and cheeks are sunken into his skull, his gaze shadowed, giving him an eerie appearance of both youth and unimaginable age. Every inch of his being is devoid of color. His jacket hangs loosely off of his frame, nearly swallowing him in shadow when he pulls it around him as if to hide himself from the rest of the world. Pity like an ocean wave washes over Hajime. “What’s your name?” he asks gently.

“Nagito.”

“How old are you?”

“17.”

Hajime blinks hard as he realizes Nagito is the same age as he is. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

“I…” Nagito shrugs and smiles a little. “I dunno. Not really anywhere.” The tiny quirk of his lips is almost amused.

Hajime hears footsteps and turns. Chisa is standing in the doorway. “My lord?” she asks, eyeing Nagito up and down.   
“Are we planning to have any guests stay overnight in the near future?” he asks her.

“No, sir. But…?”

He steps aside. “This is Nagito. He’ll be using one of the guest bedrooms for the time being. Could you clean him up and get him a change of clothes from my wardrobe? And, Teruteru?” The chef doesn’t cease in his movement about the kitchen, but Hajime knows he’s listening. “Would you make him something to eat?”

Chisa stares at him for a long moment. “Miss Nanami was a good influence on you, I think,” she says finally, and gestures for a bewildered Nagito to follow her. He does, astonishment in his eyes as he glances at Hajime over his shoulder and follows her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> Again, I apologize for the brevity and half-assedness of this chapter, I'll try to improve on that. Please, please, please, if you have any thoughts on my writing, or whatever, let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you guys, and I'm always looking for any kind of feedback on my work. So if you have any constructive criticism for me, or something you liked, or any thoughts or feelings regarding really anything, comment! As always, thank you so much for reading!


	3. Trepidation

For now, Chisa has been too busy with Nagito to bring Hajime the letter from the Intendant, but he doesn’t mind, as stressed about it as he is. Nagito is a mess, but he has faith that Chisa will clean him up nicely. That’s really her area of expertise.

He sits beside the window in his office, licking his lips for the last crumbs of toast. It feels almost like late afternoon, but it can’t be later than nine.

There’s a knock at his door and Chisa peeks through. “All finished, sir!” she says brightly. “He wants to talk to you, though. He’s in the biggest guest bedroom you have.”

He smiles at her and follows her out the door. “Thanks, Chisa,” he says.

She shrugs. “Of course!” She seemed so tense earlier. Hajime’s glad to see her back to her usual bright self.

She excuses herself, probably going back to cleaning, as he makes his way to Nagito’s room. It’s not even noon and it’s already been a bizarre day. He lets his gaze roam over the off-white walls and dark gray carpet. Uncomfortably monochrome. He never visits this part of the manor if he can help it. The servants’ quarters are back here somewhere, but he never lingers long enough to even know where they are.

He stops in front of a door he thinks might be the right one and knocks lightly. There’s a moment of silence before the door opens and Nagito grins brightly at him. “Hello!”

Hajime blinks in surprise. “Hi,” he replies. “My butler…said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Come in!” Nagito says, stepping aside.

Hajime goes inside and Nagito closes the door behind him, earning an uncertain glance from Hajime, which he ignores. “I wanted to thank you.”

Hajime shakes his head. “No need. Teruteru was out of line.”

“No, he wasn’t. I deserved to be beaten. But you stopped him anyway. But I wanted to ask you, why?”

“Why what?” Hajime asks, bewildered.

“Why would you save a piece of trash like me?”  
Hajime furrows his brow. “You needed saving. I couldn’t just let him beat you to death in my kitchen without doing anything. And you looked like you could use a meal and a bath.”

Nagito tilts his head. “But…why?”

Hajime doesn’t understand at all. “Are you asking me to throw you out again?” he asks.

“Do with me what you will,” Nagito says. “I’m already in your debt.”

“You’re a human being, I can’t just do whatever I want with you. You have free will, you know.”

“Do I?”

Hajime shakes his head. “I don’t know…what you want from me.”

“Nothing, that’s the point.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t…what?” They just look at each other for a long moment. “I’m not going to throw you out,” Hajime says finally.

“Okay.” As an afterthought, Nagito adds, “Thank you.”

“But I can’t very well just provide for you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So you’re going to have to work for me.”

“Okay.”

Hajime stands awkwardly, looks around, and shrugs. “Just…come to my office later and we’ll talk about what you can do to work off your debt and food and things.”

“Okay.”

He lingers, unsure what to do, and then walks out abruptly. His new guest is baffling, that’s for sure.

When he gets back to his office, he slumps into his desk chair and looks down. The letter from the Intendant is placed neatly in between two tax forms. Chisa must have dropped it off while he was talking to Nagito.

Bracing himself, he picks up his letter opener and slits the envelope. The letter itself is folded into thirds, and he can feel the knot in his stomach tightening with every crease he smooths out against the desk.

 

_Prepare for war._

 

Three tiny, hastily scribbled words in the bottom right corner of the paper. Ink splotches form a little quarter circle around them, and the rest of the paper is riddled with tears, as if someone tried to write an entire letter with a dry quill before they realized at the very end that there was no ink. There’s a tiny red blotch on the left edge that Hajime really hopes is red wine or something.

He stares in disbelief at the message in the corner of the paper before leaping to his feet and running into the hall. “Chisa?” he calls.

No reply.

He runs downstairs. “Chisa!” he yells.

She appears at the door into the dining room and hurries toward him. “My lord?” she asks, alarmed.

He shows her the letter.

She takes it and looks it up and down. “This is the one from the Intendant?” she asks.

“Yeah! It had his seal on the envelope but…”

She nods. “And Lady Enoshima didn’t mention anything about this earlier?”

“Nothing.”

She pauses. “And why are you asking me about this, master?”

“Well, I…” He trails off.

“You’re a man now, surely you can handle this by yourself?” She smiles.

“What am I supposed to handle, though? I don’t know what to do. The Intendant could be dead! What about this…war? What do I do about that?”

“I’m a butler, I can’t tell you that. You’re the soldier.”

“Who’s never fought a battle in his life.”

“Lord Hinata.” She sets a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eye. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal of this. It’s a letter, and there’s no harm in doing what it says. Or you could look into why it’s so messed up, but that might break some laws given that it’s illegal to even set foot on an Intendant’s land without a written invitation. Or you could always do nothing. Whatever this is will sort itself out, and it’ll be more clear over time what actions you need to take, I’m sure of it. But in the end it’s your choice. I can’t tell you what to do, and I know no more of war or business than you. I’m a servant, even if I do consider myself your friend as well.” She grins brightly. “You’ll be fine!”

“You sound like Chiaki.”

She nods. “I think she taught us all something.”

“Except she wouldn’t have given me such a long speech. She would’ve poked me in the shoulder until I left her alone and made my own choice.”

“She would’ve, wouldn’t she?” Chisa laughs, hugs him briefly, bows, and goes back down the hall, picking her feather duster up off of the stair railing as she leaves.

Hajime stuffs the letter in his pocket. He’ll think about it for a little while.

 

Hajime waits impatiently, tapping his fork against the mahogany table, the mouth-watering aroma of seafood wafting across the table from the platter in Teruteru’s hands. His servants are standing quietly, lined up beside the wall, their eyes downcast, the men with their hands at their sides and the women with their hands folded in front of them.

_Stay strong,_ his father used to tell him. _If you can’t keep your servants in line, then what are your superiors going to think of your ability to control an entire district?_ It still kills him, though, that they can’t eat with him. They stand there while he, and his guests if he has any, eats, and then they eat in the kitchen. And while anything Teruteru makes is bound to be fantastic, he’s sure they don’t get meals as spectacular as his.

“The food’s going to go cold,” Teruteru says worriedly. “Let me serve you, master.”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“My mother always told me that letting food get cold is bad luck.”

“It’s alright, Teruteru. I’m sure he’ll get here soon. But what kind of host would I be if I ate without my guest?”

“Sir – ”

“Don’t argue with me,” Hajime snaps, immediately regretting it.

Teruteru throws him a resentful glance before looking down at his feet.

“Sorry, my lord!” Chisa calls, pushing the door open and hurrying in, Nagito behind her. “Mister Komaeda was asleep.”

“Komaeda?”

“My last name,” Nagito explains, sitting down across from Hajime and giving him a bright smile. “Sorry about that!”

Hajime glances at Teruteru, who avoids his eyes pointedly. “It’s okay. We haven’t started yet.”

Teruteru sets the platter down and uncovers the massive pile of crab and a silver pitcher of butter and oil. He serves them both and leaves the room. Hajime gestures for one of his other servants to follow the cook as Chisa takes her place behind him.

Nagito immediately digs in to the food, and Hajime can’t help but be taken aback by the ferocity with which the scrawny boy attacks his meal, ravenous, the fork beside his plate forgotten as he devours every last morsel, licking off the butter and oil that spills down his forearms.

Hajime’s taken maybe ten bites of his own food when Nagito leans back, satisfied, his plate sparkling clean.

“You were…hungry,” Hajime remarks.

Nagito laughs. “Yeah!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter! This one is only a little longer than the first two...but again, I'm trying to post as much as possible before my college classes start.   
> I know Hajime is a little OOC here, but there's a reason for that. His circumstances are different from the game, so I've had to change his character a tiny bit accordingly, but I promise that he'll be more likable later! Right now he's still got a lot to learn.   
> Thank you so much for reading! As always, if you have any thoughts on my writing, and if you want to tell me what you liked and what I could've done better, let me know in the comments! Any sort of feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks!


	4. Nightmare

Hajime is no stranger to nightmares.

He’s not an idiot. He knows he’s far from the worst off of his people. But somehow knowing that, relative to most people, he’s living in the lap of luxury, doesn’t make him feel any better.

Even considering anything that happens to him suffering makes him feel guilty. And when he feels bad about that, it makes him feel worse. It’s an endless cycle of guilt and emotional turmoil.

 

_It’s the same dream he’s had every night for months. He’s lying on his back on a hill, looking up at the heavy, low clouds. He reaches his arm up. They’re so low he almost feels like he could touch them._

_The first raindrop plops into the center of his palm just as a familiar voice says, “Hi, Master!”_

_He doesn’t look at her. “Chiaki, how many times have I told you to call me Hajime?” he says, a fond smile turning up the corners of his mouth._

_“Sorry, Hajime,” she says, sitting down behind him, far enough away that he can’t see her but close enough that he can hear her breath. Just out of view. Thunder echoes across the valley in front of them. “Where are we?” she asks, her fingers stroking gently through his hair._

_He closes his eyes. “I don’t know. I thought you would.”_

_“It’s your dream.” He can just picture the tiny smile, the little head tilt, the_ I know something you don’t but you need to figure it out _expression on her face, but he still doesn’t look at her._

_“My dream? What do you mean?”_

_“I guess it isn’t important.”_

_He reaches back and takes her hand, earning a little laugh from her. The rain starts coming down harder, and Hajime flinches away from the cold water soaking through his shirt._

_“I want to tell you something,” Chiaki says, suddenly urgent, her voice nearly drowned out by the rumble of thunder._

_“What?”_

_There’s no response. Her hand lets go of his and disappears._

_“Chiaki?”_

_There’s a thud behind him, and something thumps gently against his shoulder. He opens his eyes and looks over._

_Chiaki’s lifeless eyes stare into his, her skin pasty white, her hair falling against the side of her nose and pooling amongst the blood beneath her head. “I blame you.” The words hiss maliciously from her blue lips, and Hajime yells._

“No!” he screams, sitting bolt upright, his chest heaving. It’s dark, and he looks around in a panic before he realizes he’s safe in his bedroom.

He swallows hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and wraps his arms tightly around himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out past the massive lump in his throat, horrible grief tugging viciously at his heart. “I’m sorry, Chiaki, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

There’s a knock at his door and he freezes, holding his breath. The knock comes again, and he gulps, composing himself as best as he can and going to open it.

“Are you okay?” Nagito asks, his expression concerned.

“What do you want?”

“Did you say Chiaki?”

Hajime narrows his eyes. “Go away!”

“But – ” But Hajime slams the door, stalking away and throwing himself into his bed. He buries his face in his pillow.

Nagito knocks again, but he ignores it. Why does that guy even care?

But…Hajime sits up suddenly. Nagito knew Chiaki’s name. Or at least her first name. He leaps back toward the door, but Nagito is gone. He goes back to bed. He’ll ask him later.

But he can’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees…Chiaki…and his heart hammers against his chest in fear of having the nightmare again. Eventually, after what feels like an hour of tossing and turning in frustration, he climbs back out of bed again and leaves the house, the crunch of his feet on the gravel path and the taste of night air on his tongue helping to clear his mind as he makes his way to the stables.

His horse snorts and nudges him as he walks in, and he smiles, petting her nose. “You don’t mind if I spend the night in here, do you, Blue?” She tosses her head in response.

He finds a few saddle blankets, stretches them out in front of her stall, and flops down on them, pillowing his head on his arms. It isn’t that comfortable, let alone very sanitary, but here, accompanied by the quiet huffs of Blue, her soft footsteps, sleep washes over him once again, this time deep and dreamless.

 

That’s where Chisa finds him in the morning, curled on his side, fast asleep. He stirs awake when she shakes him gently, and he looks up at her groggily.

She smiles down at him. “Time to wake up, master.”

He nods obediently and wipes the trail of drool from his cheek as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. His shoulders and back ache from sleeping basically on the ground, but he doesn’t mind. He stands and follows Chisa out and back to the house, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

The moment they get inside, Hajime runs for Nagito’s room. He’s just about to knock when Nagito comes out and gives him a curious look. “Hello?” he says. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I need to talk to you, too.” Nagito reaches behind him and picks a photograph frame up off of the dresser. He holds it up and Hajime narrows his eyes. “You stole this.”

“I found it in your office and I wanted to keep it so I could remember to ask you about it.”

“Why were you in my office?”

“Just exploring. I couldn’t sleep last night so I wandered around a little, and I found this.”

It’s a photograph of Hajime and Chiaki, him laughing with his arm around her shoulders, her cheeks pink and eyes downturned even though a tiny smile is apparent on her lips. He remembers the day well. It was right after his parents moved out. Chisa insisted that he needed to take ownership of his land and position, so she called a photographer there to take a few pictures to frame on the walls and publish in the local newspaper. The first one Hajime had to pose for, he refused to do it without Chiaki. He had to practically drag her in front of the camera because she kept telling him that a Noble shouldn’t be posing for a photo with his servant. He told her she could sit with him as a friend. She finally relented, but she didn’t want to look at the camera.

Chisa told the photographer not to put it in the newspaper, but she allowed Hajime to keep it.

“Why did you want to ask me about it?” Hajime asks warily.

“Who is this girl, to you?”

“Why do you care?”

“I hate to tell you what to do, but please just answer the question.”

Hajime glares at Nagito. “She was just a servant.”

“Just a servant? She looks like more than that in the photo. Friend? Lover?”

“Servant,” Hajime says flatly.

“…Right.”

Hajime snatches the photo out of Nagito’s hand. “You knew her name. Last night, outside my room. You said her name.”  
“Chiaki.”

“Yeah.” He fixes the other boy with a hard stare. “How did you know her name?”

For the first time, Nagito avoids his eyes. “I knew her.”

“How? She didn’t mention you.”

“She wouldn’t have, if she was only a servant.” Nagito studies his feet.

“Nagito.”

“I don’t – ”

“You don’t answer me, and I kick you out.”

“I…” He sighs and shakes his head.

“Please?” Hajime is almost pleading now.

“She…wasn’t a good friend or anything. I just met her. She seemed really nice.”

“How did you know her?”

Nagito takes a deep breath and meets his eyes. “I…”

Hajime stares at him intently.

“I saw her die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This one was short again, and I might have dragged it out a little too long there at the end. Sorry! But it was a lot of fun to write. As always, if there was something you liked or you thought I could do better, please let me know! Any feedback is appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!


	5. Fault

Hajime grits his teeth as the ring of steel echoes off of the walls of the courtyard. Peko’s red eyes bore into his as he parries blow after blow, somehow unable to go on the offensive. His sword is heavy in his grip, and he feels slow, sluggish.

Yesterday morning’s conversation replays itself in his head over and over again.

 

_“You…what?” He could hear his voice crack._

_“I was there.”_

_“Don’t tell me you were the one who…killed her?”_

_“No!” Nagito shook his head fervently. “Definitely not. I could never do that.” His eyes were dark with the memory, regret and sorrow evident in his face._

_Hajime stared at him. “Then…you were the one who…?”_

_“Who escaped? Yeah, I was.” He swallowed hard. “The only one.”_

_Even Hajime was surprised at the white-hot anger that welled up in his veins. He could feel his hands shaking. “And you did nothing?” he snarled. “You ran away like a startled rat while five other people…while Chiaki was being slaughtered? She needed your help and all you could think of was yourself?” When Nagito opened his mouth to protest, Hajime shook his head. “Shut up! There is no way to justify what you did. If you had stepped in, maybe she’d be alive!”_

_“There was nothing I could – ”_

_“You don’t know that,” Hajime hissed, thrusting his face in close to Nagito’s. “You could have tried. You fucking weasel. My best friend is dead, and I blame you.”_

No, _a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Chiaki whispered in his head._ You blame yourself.

_He jerked back as if stung, and Nagito watched him, eyes anguished._ I know, _his gaze seemed to say. Hajime whirled around and stalked back down the hallway, the picture frame digging into his palm._

His sword flies out of his hand and clatters to the ground a good six feet away. “Your focus is all over the place,” Peko says, her blade dangerously close to his throat. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Hajime says, and his tutor lowers her arm, allowing him to get his weapon again.

“You’re usually better than this.” She immediately starts attacking again, and he’s prepared, matching her blow-for-blow.

“Sorry I’m disappointing you, then.”

She dives for his leg, nicking it, and he yelps and jumps back. She disarms him again. “You’re still much better than most people. But something is wrong. What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he insists.

She blocks his way back to his sword. “I’m very good at telling when someone is lying, Lord Hinata.” Her gaze is hard. “And you are lying.”

He sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It might help, my lord. And I won’t fight you until you are alright again. I don’t like fights I know I’ll win.”

“Peko…” He crosses to a bench and sits down on it resignedly, suddenly aware of how tired he is. “It’s about Chiaki.”

“Miss Nanami?” She sits down next to him at a respectful distance. “She has been dead for a while. You need to move on to other things. And it isn’t befitting of a young Noble to dwell on a servant’s death in this way.”

“I know, but she was my friend. And I recently took in a thief who tried to steal food. He was so skinny, and I felt sorry for him. But I learned last night that he was the one boy who escaped the Parley. He knew Chiaki. I can’t help but feel like he could’ve prevented her death.”

“I doubt you said that to him in such a calm way.” She watches him knowingly.

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“There were six of them against who knows how many enemy soldiers. Pardon my input, but I don’t know if it is very fair that you blame him for all of the deaths.”

“But he ran away when he could’ve at least tried to help! I know I would’ve if I were there. I wouldn’t have left anyone behind!”

“You have combat training.” She smiles a tiny bit. “And you aren’t the sharpest pupil I’ve ever taught. You’re very foolish. And reckless. He was a thief, you say? An average child with any intelligence would have run, too.”

He can feel the same fury as yesterday making his face grow hot. “Chiaki’s dead,” he growls, pushing up from the bench roughly. He throws his sword to the ground and marches off. “We’re done for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_Prepare for war,_ the letter said, but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to do that if his tutor refuses to fight him unless he’s mentally sound. That’s not going to happen unless Chiaki comes back.

“Chisa!” he calls when he gets inside. When she appears, he says, “Tell Nagito to go train with Peko.”

“Train?” She frowns. “Why?”

He shakes his head and walks past her. “Just do it.” When he realizes she isn’t moving, he looks at his feet. “Maybe next time he’ll stay and fight,” he mutters without turning around.

She pauses, then makes a little affirmative noise and walks off.

 

Hajime looks up from his book on battle tactics to see Nagito standing in the doorway. Hajime’s gaze darkens. “What do you want?”  
“That’s your favorite question to ask me, huh?” He comes in and looks around. “This is a nice office.”

“Thanks. Now get out.”

“You sent me out for training today.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it because you knew Miss Pekoyama was going to beat the crap out of me?” He pulls up his sleeve to reveal his forearm. Dark bruises mottle his skin, and Hajime can’t help but wince.

“No.”

“Then why?”

“You’re smart. I bet you know why.”

“…You know, you’re a lot different than I thought you’d be.”

“What do you mean?” Hajime tilts his head.

“Well, when I met you, I don’t know. You gave off a different impression. You’ve got a lot more angst than I thought.”

“Angst?”

“Yeah. You’re not as nice as I’d thought. You’ve got a sort of harmless look about you. Like you care too much about people for a Noble like you. But I was wrong.”

Hajime slams his book down and leaps to his feet. “You came here to insult me?”

“Yeah, basically.” Nagito shrugs, a sheepish grin on his face.

Hajime clenches his hands into fists at his sides. “Well, you’ve done it. Leave.” He slouches back into his desk chair.

“Uh…” Nagito sighs. “Look. I don’t think it’s fair for you to blame me for what happened to Nanami.”

“Of course you don’t. Rat.”  
“Rat?” Nagito repeats, eyes wide.

“Yes, rat. You were a scared little rodent. You’re like a rat a carriage ran over in the street.”

“I didn’t know what to do…the other kids weren’t there, and we were about to leave. We couldn’t see anyone. I started walking back to the horses, and then an arrow came out of nowhere and hit this one kid. I didn’t even know his name. It went straight between his eyes. He fell, and everyone panicked. Soldiers charged in, and Nanami told everyone to run. I did exactly that. I sprinted for the horses and mounted mine, and when I looked back the rest of them were surrounded. Nanami…somebody insulted the soldiers, and one of them charged. Nanami stepped out in front of the dumb kid and took the hit. There was blood everywhere. The guy started flailing at everyone, and there were more soldiers coming, and…I panicked. I left.”

“She could’ve still been alive.”

“He stabbed her in the throat.”

“‘Oh, well, people are dying, guess I better go now. Not like I could even try to help or anything.’”

Nagito grits his teeth. “Shut up!” he snaps, and Hajime blinks in surprise. “You keep saying I should have tried, I shouldn’t have left. Is it really so bad not to want to die? I couldn’t have helped Nanami! I couldn’t have helped any of them! Are you saying you wish I were dead too? Because that’s what would have happened, and don’t tell me it’s not! You weren’t there! You’re angry and jealous and you refuse to listen to reason. I’m sorry she’s dead, and I’m sorry I survived. There. Happy? When you defended me, I thought you must be the one damn Noble in the country who wasn’t a horrible person. I thought you were kind and understanding, if a little stressed out. I was wrong.” Nagito glares at him.

Hajime stares. “I…”

“I’m horrible at holding a grudge.” Nagito chuckles, his demeanor totally changing. “But I can do it if I need to. I just…I’d like an apology.”

There’s a long, long silence. Nagito shifts uncomfortably. “I…I’m sorry,” Hajime finally says.

“Great! I accept.” Nagito smiles. “And I was wondering. Can we be friends? I get the feeling you don’t like me much, and I don’t know what I think of you, but I don’t really have any other friends, and I don’t think you do either. Your horse and Miss Yukizome don’t count.”

“She’d kill you if you called her that to her face.”

“Chisa, then.”

Hajime shakes his head. “No. I try to make friends with people I know I like.”  
“I’m not going to be your Nanami. I know that. You can’t replace her. But I’d still like to get to know you, especially if I’m living in your house. All your servants – with the exception of Teruteru – seem to really like you, and I dunno, I guess I’m curious.”

“Well…” He considers it. “I don’t know about friends. But you do know there are no rules preventing you from talking to me. We can talk about friends again later.”

“Deal!” Nagito grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for reading! As always, if you liked something, or if there was something I could've done better! Let me know!


	6. Gamble

Hajime sighs as he hears footsteps behind him when he walks out of his door, heading toward the stables. Nagito has been going out of his way to spend time with Hajime, and it’s making him slightly uncomfortable. He doesn’t understand. Even after Nagito’s speech, he still harbors a little resentment toward him, and he doesn’t get why Nagito is so obsessed with following him around, especially if he really thinks all of those things he said. Hajime can hardly go anywhere alone now.

He doesn’t pay attention, but when he gets to the stables, he turns around. “Can I help you?” he says.

Nagito grins. “Nope! Just following you.”

“Okay...” He keeps walking and pulls Blue out of her stall and outside. Nagito trails behind him like a duckling after its mother. “I’m going to town,” Hajime says.

“Okay! Can I come?”

Hajime sighs and climbs onto Blue’s back. “No, you don’t have a horse.”

“Well…there’s another one in there.”

“No.”

“C’mon! It’s a good opportunity to talk. I live in your house and garden for you and yet we only talk at meals.”

“Why do you care so much? You even said you don’t know how to feel about me. And I sure haven’t gotten any closer to even liking you.”

“That’s why it’s so exciting to know you better!”

Hajime shakes his head. “You might be one of the weirdest people I’ve ever met.”

“I might be. But you won’t know for sure unless you get to know me better!”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“Pleeeeaaase?” Nagito gives him a repulsing approximation of puppy dog eyes.

Hajime pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope!”

He thinks for a long moment. He sure as hell doesn’t want Nagito riding behind him – just the thought of the other boy’s arms around his waist makes him feel like jumping in a lake – but he’s not sure if it would be any better to let him use the other horse. Chiaki’s. He insisted on buying her one so she could accompany him whenever he needed to check on his district. She made him feel calm, composed, at ease. Without her there, the poverty and stench make him feel sick. Her stallion hasn’t been ridden since she died. Hajime takes him out every so often, lets him run around, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to do more than that.

But maybe it’s time.

“Fine. Go get him,” Hajime says, waving inside.

Nagito does a little hop and runs in, leading the animal outside. “He’s beautiful,” he says in awe, rubbing the stallion’s flank. “What’s his name?”

“Kibou.”

“Kibou.” Nagito smiles and mounts. “It suits him.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Let’s go.”

Nagito draws up alongside him as they ride and grins over at Hajime for a while. Hajime can feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “What?” he asks finally.

“Just trying to think of something to say.”

“You…are so strange.”

“I get that a lot,” Nagito admits.  
“I’d imagine.”

They’re silent for a long time, until Nagito breaks the silence. “You’re seventeen, right? You’re still just a kid.”

“Yeah, I’m seventeen. So are you. But I don’t really feel like a kid, to be honest.”

“I do!” Nagito says.

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Figures.”

“But why don’t you? And where are your parents?”  
“Who knows? It’s none of my concern. Don’t you know? When a Noble is sixteen, his parents pass the title of head of the family to him, and then once they’ve spent a year teaching him how to do things, they move out. You’re not really supposed to know where they went. The fewer emotional ties to anyone you have, the less likely it is that people can take advantage of them. And I don’t really feel like a kid anymore because I can’t afford to. If I went around playing games and having fun and being juvenile, my district would fall into ruins before you could say ‘stupidity.’ There’s no room for childish behavior when you’re in charge of an eighth of a huge city like this one.”

“That’s…depressing.”

Hajime shrugs. “Think that if you want. It’s just a fact of life.”

“Kind of like death is.” Nagito presses a knuckle to his lips thoughtfully. “Don’t you get tired?”

“Not anymore. I’m used to it.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“This is the second time in a week you’ve tried to tell me how I feel.” Hajime looks straight ahead.

“Sorry! But it’s true. You aren’t used to it. You tell yourself that you are, but if you were used to it, it would be natural to you. You seem to really struggle with it. Even your personality has been altered by all of your responsibilities, everything you’ve been through.”  
“Whatever. Sure.” But Nagito has hit the nail right on the head.

“A year ago, I think the Hajime I’d have met would’ve been just as carefree and as naïve as me.”

“At least you admit it.”

“Am I wrong? About you?”

Hajime says nothing.

“I’d have liked to meet that Hajime.”

“Again with the ‘Hajime.’ It’s disrespectful. I’m a Noble. It’s Lord Hinata to you.”

“Okay, Hajime!”

Hajime grits his teeth. “Why didn’t I just let Teruteru beat you?”

“Because somewhere in there is a nice, gentle you. I want to see more of that you.”

“It doesn’t exist.”

“Right.” Nagito takes the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “How much do you want to bet I can bring that you back?”

“No,” Hajime says hurriedly. “Don’t even try. Please don’t.” He doesn’t want Nagito harassing him even more than he does now.

“I’ll bet…six hundred Grands!”

“What?” Hajime stares at him. “You don’t have that much. Not even close.”

“No, I don’t! But I know you’ll be the one paying me, since you don’t think I can do it, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

“If you fail you’ll be in so much debt I don’t know if you’ll ever work it off.”

“So you accept?” Nagito grins at him sideways.

“No!”

Nagito chuckles. “Lame.”

“Who are you calling lame?”

“You.”

“You’re insufferable!”

“I get that a lot, too.”

“For good reason!”

“You do realize I’m just going to pester you until you do it? I’ll hound you even more from now on no matter what, so you might as well do it.”

He has a point.

“Sooooo? What’s it going to be?”

Hajime grits his teeth. “You’re the worst.”

“I know!”

“Fine!” he groans. “I’ll take your bet. But we need a time limit. Otherwise this could go on forever.”

“Okay…hm. It’s definitely going to take a while. How about…a year and a half! If I bring back the nice little kid Hajime within that time limit, you owe me six hundred Grands. If I fail – which I won’t – I’ll work for you until I’ve paid my debt.”

“Both of those are horrible outcomes.”

“Really? I kind of like them both!”

“Whatever. Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright!” Nagito grins. “My first goal is to make you laugh.”

“I do laugh.”

“A real laugh.”

“If you tell me that it’s not going to work.”

“Oh, I think you’re wrong there.” He winks.

Hajime’s shoulders drop. This might well be the worst decision of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you liked the chapter! If you liked something, or there's something I could've done better, let me know in the comments! Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!


	7. Rivalry

“Hey Hajime!” Nagito practically sprints into Hajime’s office.

Hajime doesn’t look up.

“Chisa said to give you this. She’s out buying food for Teruteru.” He flings the letter to the desk.

“Nagito.” Hajime looks up at him. “I’m not stupid.”

“You sure about that?” Nagito says, grinning and leaning in closer.

Hajime glares daggers at him until he leans back again.

“Well? Are you going to open it?”

Hajime picks up the envelope and presses on it with his thumbs, keeping eye contact with an over-enthusiastic Nagito the whole time. Sighing, he rips the envelope open and dumps the colored paper all over Nagito’s head.

Nagito laughs, the paper stuck in his hair and on his eyelashes and lips.

Hajime shakes his head. “And you think I’m the stupid one?”

Nagito shrugs. “It was worth a try! I told you I was going to try to make you laugh.”

“Yes, you did. But it’s been a week and you still haven’t succeeded with all of these stupid little pranks. Give it up and work for me.”

“Of course not!” Nagito turns and walks out, his gait bouncy and jovial as always, tiny vibrant squares of paper trailing in the air behind him. Hajime sweeps some of it off of the corner of his desk and is about to go back to his paperwork when Nagito reappears in the doorway. “Uh, Hajime, there’s someone here for you.”

“Nagito, if you keep pranking me like this, I swear I’m going to kick you out.”

“No, I’m serious this time. Chisa’s talking to her.”

“Really. What does she look like then?”

“She’s tall, I suppose, and she dyed her hair pink and she has it pulled back in a ponytail.”

Hajime’s heart leaps into his mouth. _Shit!_ He pushes up and hurries downstairs, Nagito trailing behind him. “Lady Enoshima!” he greets her as he approaches, plastering a smile onto his face. She has her arms crossed, and her sister Mukuro shuffles her feet anxiously behind her. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” Technically, Mukuro is older, but she gave up her power as a Noble to Junko in return for the opportunity to remain by her sister’s side. She’s surprisingly soft for her harsh looks.

“Call me Junko!” she says. She does this sometimes. He always calls her Lady Enoshima, though, just in case she’s not in one of her Junko moods. Calling her by her first name when she didn’t want him to would be a far more dangerous misstep than addressing her with respect when she was looking for casualness.

“Junko, then.”

She snaps her fingers and Mukuro hands her two fencing foils. She tosses one to Hajime, and he catches it, baffled. “I wanted to talk to you!” she says cheerfully.

“But why the fo – ” He staggers backward, nearly tripping over the bottom stair as she flies at him.

She has no form, but her attacks are vicious. At first he can barely block them or dodge, but as he grows more comfortable he straightens, and they battle to push each other backward. “So!” she says. “I see you’ve been practicing.”

“So have you,” Hajime remarks. The click-ring of the foils echoes through the house, and Junko’s gaze briefly flicks up above Hajime’s head. He tries to take advantage of it, lunging toward her, but she quickly skips out of the way.

“Who’s that?” she asks, nodding her head in Nagito’s direction.

“An acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance, huh?” She shrugs and feints to his right before narrowly missing his left side. “Well, anyway. If you’ve been practicing, I take it you’ve heard about the Intendant and Monokuma?”

“Monokuma? The anarchists?” He frowns. “What happened to the Intendant?”

“Does your acquaintance happen to be a Noble?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not sure I can say it with him here.”

“I trust him.” He blinks in astonishment. He…actually means that. She almost lands a hit at his head in his brief hesitation. He can hear Nagito giggle a little bit, and he wishes he could throw the foil at him.

“Well, if you say so, I suppose.” Her eyes gleam as she drives him backward. “Monokuma has been hitting a couple of the outer districts. They’ve burned down a few buildings in mine. Rumor has it they’ll start coming for Nobles themselves next.”

“That sounds more like terrorism. That’s not their usual M.O., is it?”

“No, it’s not! And guess what?” She doesn’t wait for him to reply. “The Intendant is dead!”

“What?!”

“Murdered! I found him slumped over at his desk with his throat slit. There was blood everywhere. His servants were all dead, too, and piled in a broom closet.”

He pushes forward, going on the offensive, and he feels a flash of triumph when she gives some ground. “I assume you’re next in line for his position, then?” It would be just like her to jump straight into the Intendant’s seat before his body was even cold.

“Technically, yes, but I’ve decided not to take it.”

“Huh?”

“Mukuro is the rightful Noble out of the two of us, anyway. I told her she should take it.”

Of course! She has Mukuro wrapped around her pinky finger. He underestimated her. He slashes at her face, but she blocks it. He dodges around her new flurry of jabs and charges at her, aiming his foil for her stomach, but she parries it and sweeps hers toward his head. He ducks and lunges at her again, but this time she catches his blow with her foil and spins hers deftly, ripping his out of his hand. It clatters to the ground. Without a moment of hesitation, he dives for it, but she grins wolfishly and swings a wild hooking punch at his head, catching him in the temple. He staggers, and she kicks him in the gut, sending him flying back against the stair railing behind him. Winded, he thuds to the floor, struggling to suck air back into his lungs. Nagito leans against the railing above him. Chisa kneels beside him and helps him up. Still gasping, he watches Junko leave without another backward glance.

“That was great!” Nagito crows.

“Sure. She mopped the floor with me.”

“You’re still a thousand times better than I could ever be! You two are incredible.”

“Whatever.”

“That’s your favorite word, isn’t it?” Nagito reaches over the railing and prods the top of Hajime’s head with the tip of a finger. Hajime whirls around and slaps his hand away. Laughing, Nagito asks, “Who is she?”

“She’s the Noble of the outermost district. In other words, in terms of local powers, she’s my highest superior besides the Intendant, who is now apparently her sister.”

“You said you trusted me.”

Hajime brushes past him, making sure his shoulder smacks into Nagito’s back hard enough to be painful. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Don’t worry! I won’t. No chance.” He bounds up the stairs after Hajime, grinning. “I’ve just got one question.”

Hajime glances at him suspiciously over his shoulder. He doesn’t like Nagito’s tone. “Make it quick.”

“Why didn’t the skeleton go to the ball?”

Hajime stares at him incredulously. “You’re going to resort to horrible _puns_ to win the bet?”

“He had nobody to dance with!”

Hajime snorts and shakes his head, turning to head to his office. “Hey!” Nagito says triumphantly, eyes wide. “I was close!”

“You wish.” Hajime smirks at him. “It’s not going to work.”

“It will!” Nagito smirks back. “Just you wait.”

“Feel free to give up anytime. I’d get more done.”

Nagito bounds forward and hugs him. “Yep!”

Hajime makes a choking noise and pushes him off. “We’re not even friends!” he says, his voice thin and reedy.

Nagito laughs and turns, walking away, his hands behind his head. “We will be! And I _will_ make you laugh.”

“Can’t wait,” Hajime says sarcastically, stalking away. It’s only when he slumps into his desk chair again that he realizes he means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! As always, thanks for reading! Any feedback is greatly appreciated, so if you liked something or thought I could've done something better, let me know in the comments!  
> Also! I was thinking of doing a sort of request kind of thing with another series like Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic. But less plotty. I thought it would be really cool if you guys could suggest songs, whatever you want, and I would listen to them and try to come up with some sort of Super Dangan Ronpa 2 fanfic (probably Komahina if we're being honest) that follows the message of the song! So lots of opportunity for both fluff and angst. If you've got a song to start me off, please, let me know! I'm excited for whatever you guys want to suggest!  
> Thanks!


	8. Success

Hajime sits bolt upright in bed, his ears straining for the sound again. He was just about to fall asleep, but he could’ve sworn he heard something.

Hesitantly, he pushes the blankets back and leaves his bedroom, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Downstairs he can see the moonlight pool in long silver ovals across the floor, the only sounds the quiet natural creaks of the house. It’s cold; he wraps his arms around himself tightly, and he can see his breath. He makes his way to the window at the very end of the hall and looks out. The grass below waves in a gentle breeze as the stars sparkle brightly above, the sky like a dark blanket beyond them. He turns away and runs his hand along the railing as he heads downstairs. There’s no one in the dining room. The chandelier clinks eerily, and the grayish white chairs look almost ghostly without anyone in them. He looks out the front door. No one. He sighs and makes his way to the kitchen. He supposes that if he doesn’t find the source of the sound in there he can go back to bed. But it was loud, and it’s bothering him.

He freezes just beside the doorway as he hears muttering. He peeks in. Pots and pans are scattered across the floor, and Hajime can see his emaciated reflection in each of them. Nagito sits on the floor among them. His knees are drawn up to his chest, his elbow resting on them and his hand is curled his hair so tightly it must be painful. His other hand trembles as it grips the handle of a knife, the point making a tiny indent in the skin at his throat. As Hajime watches, a droplet of blood rolls down beneath his shirt. “Come _on,”_ Nagito growls. “Just do it already!”

 _What…the fuck?_ Hajime can do nothing but stare. Nagito keeps muttering to himself, and blood keeps streaming down his neck, but Hajime doesn’t know what to do.

“It’s not like there’s any _fucking_ point to you being alive,” Nagito snarls to himself, and even from the side Hajime is taken aback by his expression, so twisted, so full of self-loathing and hatred and anger and resignation and despair that Hajime finds it impossible to liken this Nagito that he sees before him to the one that won’t stop trying to make him laugh, the one that’s determined “bring back” a side of Hajime that he isn’t sure was ever even there. Did something happen between the new round of dumb pranks and now that he didn’t notice? Something that would cause…this?

“Fuck!” Nagito yells, and he throws the knife at the wall, where it bounces off and clatters to the floor.

Hajime takes a deep, silent breath. “Nagito,” he says quietly.

The other boy’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet, Nagito’s colorless ones wide and shock, Hajime’s astonished and confused, but their look only lasts a heartbeat. “Hi, Hajime!” Nagito says, recovering, springing to his feet with his usual jovial grin, but this time Hajime can clearly see the pain behind it.

He walks forward and picks up the knife. “You wanted to kill yourself.”

Nagito’s mouth opens as if to protest, but after a moment it shuts, and he nods silently, the grin failing.

“Why?”

“It…doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Hajime scowls at him. “Anything that could make you want to end your own life matters.”

“But it doesn’t matter to you. We’re not even friends,” Nagito says, an edge of bitterness to his voice as he glances out the window.

But Hajime is surprised to find it does matter to him. As annoying and infuriating and overenthusiastic Nagito might be, he doesn’t want Nagito to die. _You’ve grown fond of him,_ Chiaki’s voice teases him lightly, and he realizes with a jolt that she’s right. Or that he’s right, really; her voice in his head is just a product of his wishful thinking, and all of the thoughts are his own. “Not yet,” he says. “But remember. You told me we would be. You promised. Are you going to break that promise and die before you can win me over?”

“Yes,” Nagito answers promptly.

“You couldn’t just now.” Hajime tilts his head. “You couldn’t make yourself do it.”

“I…I couldn’t, but…I have to. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t!”

Hajime feels like he’s watching Nagito implode, collapsing in on himself with every word, every breath, the little color that he’s regained since Hajime found him steadily draining away once again.

Nagito looks at the ground and presses the heel of his hand against his eye. “I mean, what’s the point? Why the fuck am I even here? Why am I _alive?_ I’m trash. I’m garbage. I should’ve just _died_ with Nanami and the others. You were right; it _is_ my fault they died. I mean, who else could have fucked up so astronomically that they could be the sole survivor of a fucking massacre that by all rights they could’ve tried to prevent or at the very least just fucking died. You and everyone else I’ve known would be better off without me! What’s the _fucking point?”_ he yells, his arms spread wide, leaning forward, eyes wild and anguished.  
Hajime watches, and all he can feel is pity. It’s almost…alien. “I…” He’s speechless. He can’t even tell if he’s breathing.

Nagito glares at him for a moment longer, then whirls around and storms out of the kitchen. Hajime just stands there. He…doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t understand.

He eventually finds his way outside, and he sleeps beside Blue’s stall again.

 

When he wakes up, morning light is just beginning to filter into the stables beneath the door, and Blue is nickering anxiously. Hajime stirs and sits up to see Nagito standing in the door. Hajime immediately scrambles to his feet, swallowing hard.

“Chisa said I might find you here,” Nagito says.

Hajime is relieved; all of the faux joviality is gone, and they’re not trying to pretend last night didn’t happen. “Yes.”

“So…”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hajime frowns. “Why?”

“Why?” Nagito laughs mirthlessly. “For being me, I guess. I don’t really know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They fall silent. “Don’t kill yourself,” Hajime says finally, after a long pause.

“What?” Nagito’s face is astonished, disbelieving.

“Don’t. You don’t see the point of living now, but if you kill yourself now, you’ll never see the point. You’ll never know what you might be missing. It’s not fair to yourself or the people around you. I know you don’t have any friends, and it can’t be much of an existence just wandering around my house and trying desperately to entertain yourself, and it has to be boring, but it could change. It could get better. Your problem is that you’re impatient. You don’t believe it could get better because you can’t see it, but I can promise you that it will. And you promised to make me laugh, to make me a better person, and I fully expect to pay you six hundred Grands by the time our bet comes to an end. Hold on to whatever was stopping you from doing it last night.”

Nagito still looks like he can’t believe what Hajime’s saying. Hesitantly, Hajime places a hand on Nagito’s shoulder. “And…do me a favor. At least tell me before you decide to kill yourself for real.” He gives a tiny smile. “You’re my friend, I wouldn’t want you to die without even letting me know.”

Nagito’s mouth hangs open, but as Hajime brushes past him and heads back toward the house, he hears footsteps behind him, and he’s almost bowled over as arms wrap around him. He stiffens, then coughs uncomfortably. “Let’s hold off on that for n – ” He freezes, midway through peeling Nagito’s arms off of him, as he realizes Nagito is crying, his shoulders shaking. Hajime stands there uncomfortably, unsure what to do. After a while, he gently pushes Nagito away. “Let’s…postpone the hugging for a while. We’re not _quite_ there yet.”

Nagito nods, giving him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. But…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Hey…” He chews his lip thoughtfully, a smile spreading across his face. Hajime watches apprehensively. “Thanks a latte!” He says finally, holding his index finger up triumphantly.

Hajime shakes his head. “You’re the worst.” He turns back and starts back toward the house. “Now let’s go get some breakfast. I’m hungry.”

“Hi, hungry, I’m Nagito.”

Hajime freezes in his tracks, and they exchange a split-second glance over his shoulder before he cracks up.

Nagito laughs, too, more surprised than amused. “Really? A lame joke like that is what it took?”

Hajime doubles over in laughter and nods. “I haven’t heard a joke like that in forever!” he says.

Nagito raises an eyebrow, a genuine grin turning up the corners of his mouth, and he dissolves into laughter, too. They both know their guffawing is far more than the joke warrants, but Hajime, for one, doesn’t care. Chisa finds them there several minutes later, holding their sides, still chuckling, both grinning, and Hajime doesn’t miss her delighted smile as she turns to lead them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! As always, thank you so much for reading! If you liked something I did or thought I could've done something better, let me know in the comments! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> The first story for my songfic is out! Thanks so much to bearsofalthain for the song request, and, CaGoddess and dawnstuck, I've heard you! Yours will be my next two installments! But for the rest of you, please, please, please, if you have any songs you'd like me to use, tell me! I'd be so grateful, and it'd be really fun! It can be anything you want. Thank you so much, guys!


	9. Regression

Hajime should’ve known that being nice to Nagito wouldn’t change anything, and calling him “friend” would only make him worse. If he found it hard to get away before, now it’s virtually impossible. Nagito is as maddening and optimistic as ever, but, Hajime has to admit, allowing himself to enjoy the other boy’s company once in a while is sort of a nice change of pace.

In a way.

“Damn it, Nagito,” he hisses now, as they ride through town. Nagito has adopted Kibou as his own, and Hajime would be lying if he said the strange boy didn’t have a way with horses. “You didn’t have to come with me. And in my clothes, no less. You look like a Noble. I can only imagine what everyone thinks.”

Nagito shrugs, a bright smile on his face. The sleek black-and-purple Noble ensemble, the traditional cross between dress clothing and combat uniform, makes him look even skinnier than he is. “Who cares? I haven’t left your manor in forever. I was dying to get out.” He looks around, the smile dropping a bit. “This place is kind of depressing, though.”

“Yes, this is my district. The inner city has never been a great place to live, and with the huge tax increase since Lady Ikusaba claimed the Intendant’s seat, it’s definitely no better off. You might as well get used to it if you’re going to keep tagging along.”

Nagito says nothing, his gaze troubled as he surveys the dusty streets, the dustier people, the rundown shops and decrepit houses.

They stop at an inn and leave their horses before continuing on foot. “Why are we here?” Nagito asks at last, breaking the silence.

“ _I_ am here to check on my district. I have to talk with my informants to assess the level of unrest and whether or not I need to do something. _You_ are here because you’re hell-bent on irritating me to death.”

“You bet!” Nagito smirks. “Who are these informants of yours?”

“You’ll see.”

“And why are you trusting me?”

Hajime was just turning to leave, but he stops and looks back at him over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not a Noble, you said it yourself. When it comes down to it I’m just a simple thief that’s been leeching off of you for a few months now. Yet you seem to trust me. Me, of all people.”

“Of all people? You’re far from the least trustworthy person I’ve ever met.” He keeps walking, and Nagito’s footsteps tell him he’s following. “You might as well be a Noble at this point. And I don’t really see the point of hiding anything. If you were going to share my secrets you would’ve by now.”

“Okay!” Nagito says amiably, and Hajime glances at him, shaking his head. He’s a weird kid.

They round the corner into a dark back alley, and Hajime frowns in distaste as the muddy drainage water splashes quietly beneath his feet. This alley never gets any sun, so there’s always a thin layer of water pooled on the ground, and the cobbles below are sinking now, slippery and slick from erosion.

Three children, their clothes and faces streaked with dirt and their hair messy and unkempt, whirl around at the sound, excited grins on their faces. “Mr. Hajime!” a girl says, her brown eyes bright despite her pathetic appearance. She must be about fourteen.

“It’s Lord Hinata,” he says, sighing exasperatedly.

“Okay, Mr. Hajime!” Nagito snorts, and Hajime shoots a glare at him to see that the white-haired boy is hiding a smile behind his hand. “Do you have the money?”

Hajime nods and pulls a pouch from his belt. He shakes it, and it makes little clinking sounds. He opens it and shows the tiny gold coins to the kids, whose eyes widen to the size of moons. “Sixty Grands. Now talk.”

“Well,” the girl, says, unable to tear her eyes from the pouch, “you’ve got a problem on your hands.”

“A problem?”

“A big one. Monokuma – you know, that group you told us to watch out for? They’re around. And they’re trying to start a revolution. My dad’s already joined the rebel army they’re trying to build. I don’t know how they’re doing it, but people here are flocking to them en masse. I’d say well over half the district has already joined.”

Hajime can feel fear pooling in his stomach. “Rebel against who? The Intendant? The king?”

“Everyone. Those in political positions of power are screwed. I’d watch my back if I were you. You might not be very high up on the totem pole, but you’re definitely still on their list.”

“How did you get this information?”

“A magician never reveals her tricks.” She smirks. “But I promise no one knows besides us.” Her two younger companions nod earnestly.

He glares at them. “Fine. Anything else?”

“We found your parents.”

It’s like he’s punched in the stomach. He staggers backward, his eyes wide, mouth suddenly dry. “W-what?” He can see Nagito giving him a concerned look out of the corner of his eye, but he ignores him.

“They’re – ” She pauses. “You realize it’s illegal for you to even know whether they’re alive or not, right?”

“You think I give a damn, brat?”

“Jeez, okay.” She raises an eyebrow. “You should be nicer to me. We found your parents.”

“Is sixty Grands nice enough for you?”

Her smile widens. “I don’t know. Might want to bump it up to seventy. Or eighty.”

“Are you serious, kid?”

“Dead.”

He groans and pulls a smaller bag out of his pocket, counting out ten Grands, which he drops into the pouch for the kids. The girl cocks her head, her little triumphant smile making it really hard for Hajime to restrain himself from punching her. He gives her ten more. “Happy?”

She grins wolfishly. “Very. They’re in Lord Kuzuryuu’s district, but right on the border to Lady Mioda’s. Their house is right in that area that those two are always fighting for. It’s big and white and if you head east along Amity Street you can’t miss it. Just in case you do, though, there’s a huge oak tree out front, and their door is sort of bluish grey.”

“And how do you know this? That’s at least ten miles away!”

“Again, a magician never reveals her secrets.”

“Some magician you are.”

“Some magician indeed.”

“Alright, anything else?” Hajime says with a sigh.

“Nope. That’s all we got.”

He hands over the pouch. “Divide it as evenly as possible. Keep your eyes and ears out for me, and we’ll meet here again in a week.”

“Will do, Mr. Hajime!”

“You’ll call Kuzuryuu and Mioda by their titles, but not me? What the hell’s with that?”

She flashes him a bright smile, and the three scamper off.

He turns. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Are we going to see your parents?” Nagito asks.

Hajime freezes and looks over at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you just learned where they are.”

He sighs. “No. Knowing they’re alive is good enough for me. I probably shouldn’t see them. We’re going home.”

Nagito puts a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches away instinctively. Nagito winces. “Sorry, I always forget. You don’t like being touched.”

“How could you forget? I remind you every freaking day.”

“It’s just a reflex.” He lets his hand fall to his side. “Anyway. I know you want to see them.”

“Look at you, trying to persuade me to break the law,” Hajime says, deliberately adding an edge to his voice. “Let it go. I’m not going to see them. I don’t need them, and I’m not allowed to have contact with them.”

“They raised you. I know you miss them.”

“Let it go, Nagito.”

“It’s not right for them to deny you access to your own parents. I really think you should just go – ”

“I said, let it go!” he snaps, whirling around to face him. “Why do you care? Why are you so insistent that I go see them?”

Nagito exhales slowly, looking unsurprised. “You’re my friend, I care about you.”

Hajime snorts. “Right. You care about me. That’s a great joke.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t believe you, dumbass.”

“Do you…even know what friendship is, Hajime?”

“Oh, fuck you.” He turns on his heel and stalks back to their horses, ignoring Nagito’s attempts to get his attention. He ignores the looks they get all the way back to the manor, and he tunes Nagito out until his voice is nothing more than a mosquito whine in his ear. He ignores Chisa, and he ignores the dinner bell that rings just as they get back inside. He goes straight to his room and slams the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! As always, if you had something you liked, or there was something you thought I could've done better, let me know in the comments! Thanks for reading!  
> Also! I'm still taking requests (and by which I mean begging for requests) for the songfic series! If you've got a good Komahina song for me, please tell me! I'll take it and write a short fic with it! Thanks!


	10. Reunion

Hajime shivers in the cold night air as he walks down the road, listening to the rustle of the trees. The road here is paved with cobbles, the houses large and in good condition, almost resembling those of Nobles. He’s envious of Kuzuryuu and Mioda. Their districts aren’t harrowed by poverty and conflict. Kuzuryuu’s is just inside Junko’s, and Mioda’s is just inside that, so they’re some of the richest districts. Here on the border between the two, he could be in another city altogether.

He thanks every deity he knows for his good luck getting past Nagito and Chisa tonight. Nagito wasn’t on one of his regular nightly walks, and while Chisa was awake, she wasn’t quite awake to notice him tiptoeing past her. He’s sure he won’t be back by morning, so all of his servants will probably be freaking out when he does return, but he didn’t want anyone tagging along – ahem, Nagito – so he figured the best time to leave would be at night.

Nagito was right. He does want to see his parents. He was stupid to even try to deny it. Still, they haven’t spoken since their fight a couple of days ago, despite all of Nagito’s attempts to approach him. Hajime might apologize to him when he gets back. Then again, that would require him to actually talk to Nagito, and the crazy white-haired boy never fails to piss him off every time they converse, so he might not.

His heart leaps into his mouth as he spots a huge white house, an oak tree swaying in the wind in the front yard. This is it. This is definitely it. That little brat kid might be infuriating, but she’s sure a good info broker. But he’s scared; he’s scared that his family won’t want to see him, or that they’ll have died years ago and he’s intruding on some other rich family’s property. He can say from experience that people don’t take very kindly to Nobles showing up on their doorstep unannounced. Or what if they’re angry that he broke the law and sought them out? It’s true he asked the girl and her friends to keep their eyes out for any sign of his parents, but he never expected her to actually _find_ anything, much less their exact location.

He inhales long and slow. He’s not making anything better by just standing here and staring. Steeling himself, preparing for the worst, he walks up and knocks. It’s not until he does that he realizes that even though he’s awake right now there’s a distinct possibility they might not be.

He waits for a few seconds, shuffling his feet anxiously, and is just about to knock again when the door flies open, revealing a small boy with brown hair standing with his feet spread wide and a hefty length of wood gripped tightly in his hands like a club. Hajime stares at him, and the little boy stares back. It suddenly strikes Hajime just how similar they are; they have the same hair, the same angular face and high cheekbones. Only their eyes are different. While Hajime’s are more yellowish green, the boy’s are dark, almost black, the pupils very nearly disappearing into the inky depths of his irises.

“Yuki?” Hajime finally manages in a hoarse voice.

The boy blinks and lowers the makeshift club. “Big brother?”

Hajime falls to his knees on the doorstep and pulls Yuki toward him, hugging the little boy’s head to his shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. “Yuki.” He smiles a little. “You’ve gotten so big!”

“I thought you were never coming back.” Yuki’s voice is choked with tears, and Hajime rubs his back reassuringly.

“Me too,” he murmurs.

There’s a harsh gasp from farther inside the house and Hajime looks up to see his mother standing in front of a doorway, her arm out against the wall to brace herself as her shocked gaze looks Hajime up and down. “W-Watari,” she chokes out.

“Takako? What’s wrong?” His father’s deep rumble of a voice makes him stiffen.

“I-it’s…” She takes a hesitant step forward, her eyes still open wide, as if she's afraid that if she blinks Hajime will disappear. “It’s our son,” she breathes.

“What?” His father runs out of what must be their bedroom. “Yu…” He trails off as he spots Hajime. “What…what the hell are you doing here?”

Hajime straightens, keeping his hand on Yuki’s head; Yuki hugs his leg. He clears his throat. “Father, I – ” Hajime’s cut off as his father runs forward and wraps him in a bear hug. He’s always been the more sentimental of Hajime’s parents; he wasn’t Noble by blood but by marriage, so he hadn’t been hardened and conditioned for Noble life since childhood. Then again, not all Nobles are made of stone. Mioda can serve as proof of that. And Hajime’s mother has never been by any means cold to her children.

His father pulls away and holds him at arm’s length. “How did you find us? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I…was running a routine check on my district.” His mother will know what that means; she was the one who advised him to use children as spies. Adults are far less trustworthy and have more of a grasp of the consequences if they’re found out. “And I caught wind of this place. I couldn’t let anyone know I was here, though, so I had to come at night. I’m sorry.”

“You’re…a real Noble,” his mother says in astonishment. She comes over and runs a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry.” There’s no “I’m proud of you” or “Good job.” They waste no time on keeping up the pretense that Noble life is anything to be proud of.

“It’s alright. If not me, then someone else. And it’s not like we had a choice.”

“Are you managing alright?” she asks.

“I’m managing. I’ve had some slip-ups but nothing bad has come of it yet so as of yet everything is about as good as it can get. I’m glad you found a place in a more wealthy district.”

He can see the dismay in his parents’ eyes. His mother cups his face with her hands, and suddenly he can feel tears pushing at the backs of his eyes. “You’re so strong,” she whispers, and he loses his composure entirely, covering his eyes with one hand and gritting his teeth as a sob tears from his throat. She hugs him gently and holds him as he cries, and he can feel Yuki and his father’s hands on his back, doing their best to make him feel better without actually knowing what to do. This feels so natural, so familiar, and he wonders fleetingly why Nagito’s hugs always set his teeth on edge like they do. It feels good to break down, to release every bit of tension that he’s built up over the long months since his seventeenth birthday, when his family left the house. It seems like an eternity, but finally, he sucks in a long, shaky breath, wiping his cheeks and eyes vigorously with his sleeve. They all draw away from each other. “You should go,” his mother says, indicating the faint band of pink stretching across the horizon, and Hajime recognizes the look on her face. This is the Noble part of her, the _duty-before-all-else_ side that became all too natural to her after years of striving to perfect it.

He nods, bends over, kisses Yuki’s head, and leaves the house without another word. As he walks out, though, his father whispers, “Make sure you come back.” He nods almost imperceptibly and sets off at a brisk walk down the street, not looking back. He definitely will.

 

When he gets back to his manor, it’s around eight-thirty, and Chisa is pacing agitatedly in front of the door. The moment he pushes it open, she whirls to face him. “Where have you been?” she demands.

He puts up his hands defensively. “It’s not important. I haven’t been gone that long.”

“Not important? You scared us half to death.”

“But I’ve been gone much longer during the morning and it hasn’t been a huge deal.” He frowns in confusion. “And…us? I highly doubt anyone worried aside from you.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Komaeda seemed very worried.” She hesitates. “We…received a note this morning. It’s apparently from Monokuma.”

“Monokuma? And?”

“They’re threatening to kill you if you don’t turn over your position as Noble to one of them.”

“Seriously? They can have it.” He shrugs. “I don’t really want to be a Noble anyway. Never have.”

She nods, unsurprised. “And Lady Enoshima sent a letter saying – under no uncertain terms – that consequences await you if you accept it. I imagine she received a similar threat.”

“Of course she did.” He sighs. So much for that. “I guess I’m still a Noble, then.”

“But…Master…what about Monokuma’s threat?”

“Chisa, I’ve been trained as a soldier, and I’m fairly certain I can deal with some terrorist assassin recruited from the poorer people in the inner city. Besides, we both know what Enoshima and her people are capable of. Her sister is the Intendant. I’d rather face whatever Monokuma has planned for me, against which I at least have a chance, than get on Enoshima’s bad side.”

She presses her fingertip to her lips thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right. Are you sure you don’t want to hire a bodyguard, though?”

“Like I said, I’ve trained in combat since I was five. A bodyguard would only be a nuisance.”

She closes her eyes in resignation. “As you wish.”

“Is breakfast ready?”

“Yes, sir. It’s in the kitchen for you.”

He nods and starts down the hallway, but he only gets a few steps in before he hears Nagito shout his name behind him. “Wait! Hajime!”

He stops and turns, and Nagito almost stumbles to a halt in astonishment. “You actually stopped,” he says when they’re standing face to face.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I’m not really accomplishing anything by avoiding you in my own house, am I?”

“No. Where were you?”

“I was…following some advice.”

Nagito’s eyes widen. “Did you see – ”

“Don’t. Chisa and the other servants don’t know anything. I’d get in huge trouble if anyone found out.”

“So you did!”

“I did.” He hesitates. “Look, Nagito, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. You were trying to help.”

“Well, that’s okay, but that’s not what bothered me, actually. You blow up at me all the time. That’s not all that different from our usual interaction.”

Hajime frowns, bewildered. “Then what else bothered you?”

“You said you didn’t believe I cared about you.”

Hajime opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it. He would be lying if he denied that he still thinks that way.

“You still don’t, do you?”

“Not really,” he admits.

“Why?”

“Why would you care about me? I don’t get it.”

Nagito sighs. “Do you know what friends are?” He shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. Clearly you don’t.” He pulls back his sleeve to reveal several lines of writing on his forearm. “Luckily for you, I looked it up in one of your dictionaries and wrote it on my arm so I could read it to you.” He clears his throat, grinning at Hajime. “‘A person whom one knows and with whom has a bond of _mutual_ ’” – he shoots a glance at Hajime – “‘affection. A person who is not an enemy or who is on the same side. A familiar or helpful thing.’” He smiles. “You said I was your friend but you had no idea what that entailed. _Mutual_ affection. Affection, meaning fondness and care. The moment you called me your friend, you told me that you cared about me, and that you knew I cared about you, too. You were saying you enjoyed my company as much as I enjoy yours. You were accepting that I’m not your enemy, even though I’m sure I drag you down and anger you.”

“You don’t,” Hajime replies almost instinctually.

Nagito blinks.

“You don’t,” he repeats, surprised at himself but sure of it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! It’s completely okay. I mean, it’s up to you. We can be friends if you want. But…I mean, why would you want to be friends with someone like me? I should’ve realized that in the first place.”

He groans. “No, dumbass, you’re my friend. I guess I get what that is now, but that – just as surprisingly to me as it is to you – doesn’t change anything. So shut up about all of the ‘dragging me down’ and ‘someone like me.’ We’re going to do this right. Now. We’ve made up. Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No, Chisa insisted we all wait for you to get back.”

“Alright, so let’s go eat.”

“Huh?”

“That’s something friends do, right?”

Nagito grins and jogs to catch up as Hajime turns and continues down the hallway. “Right!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> Thank you so, so much for continuing to read my story! It means a lot to me that people could read something I wrote and enjoy it. I'm so grateful to all of you!  
> I just got back from a camping trip on which I convinced my dad to let me bring my computer, so I am back with not one but two chapters for you! Possibly a third, if I can finish the next one I've started. Sorry to those of you who have been keeping up with my songfic series, I know up to now I've simply alternated updates of the two, but I promise I'll have another songfic up with you guys sometime in the next couple of days!  
> Which brings me to my next topic! You guys know what's coming. If any of you have an idea for a song you want me to write to for Komahina, please, let me know! And I'd be more than happy to write something not Komahina as well, so if you have a good song for another pairing or just another character you want me to write about, feel free to specify! I'll gladly change it up for you guys! I love all of you so much. Thank you again!  
> And as always, if you liked something or thought I could've done something better, please tell me! Any sort of feedback is appreciated! Thanks!~


	11. Reason

The first attempt on Hajime’s life happens when he and Nagito are playing a board game.

Hajime rests his cheek on his fist, pushing his piece forward with his index finger. Nagito’s eyes light up. “Lucky! Extra turn.”

Hajime nods absently, but he's too bored to care. He's not used to having no work to do, but he came back this morning from his meeting with the girl and her little rat friends and had no new paperwork to do for any of his superiors. His swordsmanship lesson with Peko has been postponed until Thursday due to her recent illness - with winter around the corner, it's only natural so many people have been getting sick - and, to his relief, none of the other Nobles have any summits or parties planned for the near future. So here he is. He's accustomed to being under much more stress than this, and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He closes his hands around the dice, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He lifts his head off of his hand and looks around, squinting out the open window. He doesn't see anything. “What's up?” Nagito asks, curious. But then there's a flash of silver, and Hajime throws himself out of the way as a slender throwing knife embeds itself in the back of his chair. If he hadn't moved it would've hit him right between the eyes. “What the - ” Nagito stands quickly and runs to the window, but Hajime lunges toward him and yanks him out of the way as another knife whistles through the air and slams into the wall opposite with a thud. They press themselves against the wall beside the window, waiting, hardly breathing.

After what must be at least ten minutes, Hajime takes off his jacket and waves it in front of the window. When nothing happens, he tentatively steps away from their terrible hiding place. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters.

“Why…?” Nagito stares at him, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Chisa bursts into the room and runs over to Hajime. “Are you okay?” she asks, gripping both of his shoulders tightly.

He ducks away. “Uh. Yeah? Why?”

She holds up a thin slip of paper. “‘We failed this time, but we’ll try again.’ It's from Monokuma.”

“They said they failed. No reason for you to freak out.”

She glares at him. “With all due respect, sir, ‘we failed’ meant they didn't kill you. It didn't mean they didn't hurt you.”

“It's not like this is the first time this has happened. I'm a Noble, Chisa. You've been serving my family since you were little. How many times did people try to kill my mother and father?”

“And they were damn lucky they weren't killed! You know as well as I do that they were both injured multiple times. It's a miracle you haven't been yet.”

“Would someone care to tell me what's going on?”

They both look at Nagito. “No,” they say in unison. “Not right now,” Hajime adds.

“Did you see them?” Chisa asks.

“No.” He points at the two knives. “Just their weapons.”

She swears under her breath. “They're starting small. This isn't the first time they're going to try to kill you.”

“I know.” He looks over at Nagito. “Want to continue our game? I can explain everything to you.”

Nagito spreads his hands incredulously. “Someone just tried to throw a knife at you!”

“I'll take that as a yes.”

“Not in here,” Chisa says.

“Chisa, it's not like they're going to try the same thing again. I'll close the window if it makes you happy.”

She sets her jaw. “No. If you're going to play, you're going to play in a room with no windows and a locking door. Which I will be standing in front of.”

“You're a butler, not a bodyguard.”

“And you refused to hire a bodyguard, remember? So we’re going to have to make do.”

“I'm not defenseless. I've been trained - ”

“As a soldier. Yes, yes, I know. So has every Noble in history. And do you want to know what the Noble rate of death due to murder is? Eighty-two percent. Eighty-two, you arrogant blockhead. So I'm not backing down on this.”

He sighs. “Fine.” He and a baffled Nagito gather up their game and search for a room that meets Chisa’s requirements. She stalks along behind them, and when they find one, she crosses her arms and stands outside. “You want us to lock the door?” Hajime asks. “You realize that if we do you won't be able to get in.”

“Yes, I know that. Don't lock it. The point of locking it is so if we need to I we can barricade ourselves inside.”

“So screw the other servants, I guess.”

“Your safety is my first priority.”

“Again, you're not a bodyguard.”

She says nothing, simply staring him down until he pulls the door closed.

He and Nagito pull up chairs opposite one another and Hajime picks up the dice. “I don't think you'd let anyone else talk to you like that,” Nagito remarks.

Hajime rolls and moves his piece forward. “Definitely not.” He gives Nagito a sideways glance. “So don't try it.”

“Why do you let her?”

“She's...well, she's not a friend. That's for sure. She's more like family. I grew up with her. She was eight when I was born, so I guess she was sort of like an older sister-slash-second mother.”

Nagito nods and rolls. “Alright. Now, what the hell was that?”

“Monokuma. You remember that girl talking about them? How they were recruiting people from the districts to try and stage a revolt?”

“Yeah?”

“The morning I got back from seeing...you know...we received a letter from them demanding that I turn over my position as Noble to one of their leaders.”

“And you didn't accept?” Nagito frowns. “What with all of your complaining and brooding I would've thought you'd give them your seat in a heartbeat.”

“I do not complain!” Hajime says indignantly.

Nagito snorts. “Yes, you do. All the time.” He leans across the table and taps Hajime’s nose.

Hajime almost tips his chair over backwards trying to get away, and it takes him a moment to get its legs back on the ground. Nagito laughs, and Hajime smiles a little despite himself. “Okay, maybe I do. But that's irrelevant. Anyway, Junko Enoshima also sent me a letter and said that if I accepted there were far worse consequences waiting for me than anything Monokuma could come up with. Knowing her, I absolutely believe her. So I didn't contact Monokuma. And now they're trying to take over my seat by force.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“You said to Chisa this wasn't the first time this happened?”

“Definitely not. This might be the fourth or fifth? Total, though, not from Monokuma. Nobles are possibly the least popular people in the kingdom, and as Nobles for an inner district, my family has been widely hated for generations. Assassination attempts are far from rare. And when Nobles have a child or children, they become prime targets for people trying to end the line of - in this case - Hinatas. My mother once nearly died protecting my little brother. He would've been killed.”

“How old was your brother?”

“Well, he's six now, so probably about three.”

“Someone tried to murder a three-year-old boy?”

“Yeah. And someone tried to stab me in my crib a few weeks after I was born.”

Nagito shakes his head. “You ever think maybe there's a reason? Maybe, just maybe, the way you run things is making people unhappy? I mean, all of that is horrible and all, but you're not entirely victims.”

Hajime laughs drily. “Of course, but I don't exactly have a choice. If I don't pay my taxes, I'll be executed, and I can't pay for anything with the minimal salary I get from the Intendant. I have to tax my district. Hugely. That sparks riots and small-scale but violent revolts that I have to suppress by force, which creates further unrest. I have to monitor my district to prevent any problems I might not be able to deal with, and my having eyes on the inside also makes people hate me, and it also makes them wary of one another, which they blame on me and hate me even more. I would attempt to bring peace if I could, but if I did that would mean cutting taxes, letting up on law enforcement, and no longer keeping such a close eye on my district. Then I wouldn't be able to pay my own taxes, and I'd have huge rebellions on my hands. The only reason I've allowed Monokuma to continue drawing people from my district is that such a widespread uprising is the Intendant’s responsibility to deal with. It's essentially become a ‘me or them’ situation. As a human being, I will always choose ‘me.’”

“You could change all of that.”

Hajime almost knocks his playing piece over. Nagito is contemplating one of the dice carefully. “What?” Hajime asks.

“You could change everything. Monokuma is planning a revolution? Join them. Technically you wouldn't be giving them what they want. Junko couldn't punish you for abandoning your position. You'd stay a Noble but you'd be a revolutionary, too! You'd more than likely be the most powerful person they'd recruited so far, and as a trained soldier you could make a huge difference once they actually decide to wage war against the kingdom.”

“You're kidding. You want to have this discussion while my butler is standing right outside the door?”

“Oh! Oops.” Nagito smiles sheepishly.

“He's right!” Chisa calls.

“Me or Nagito?”

“Nagito.”

“What?!”

“That's all I'm going to say.”

“You two want me to join a rebel army of peasants?”

“Yep,” Nagito says brightly. “And with so many of your constituents already a part of the organization I have no doubt it would improve your reputation a bit too.”

“You're crazy.”

“How so?”

“If I were found out I could be tortured and killed.”

“If Junko and the Intendant found out you'd visited your parents you could be tortured and killed. But that didn't seem to bother you much.”

“What?” Chisa says, her voice appalled.

“Nothing!” Hajime says hurriedly. “That's different.”

“I don't see why.” Nagito shrugs and rolls the dice. “But it's up to you. I won't push you.” He taps Hajime’s lips.

Hajime refuses to make a fool of himself again, but the back of his head is pressed so hard against his chair that it hurts. He catches Nagito’s finger in his mouth and bites down. Nagito yelps and draws back, shaking his hand. “Good,” Hajime says. And then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

“Of course! You always hate it when I try to influence your decisions too much, so I'll back off a little this time.” He moves his piece forward and grins. “First one to the end! I win!”

“Huh?” Hajime leans over in shock, then glares at Nagito, who grins wide.

“Don't be a bad sport! I won! Now you owe me an apple turnover from that café we passed the last time we went out!”

“Teruteru’s are better,” Hajime mutters.

“Yeah, but that wouldn't be any fun! You wouldn't have to pay an exorbitant amount of money for it!”

“That's the only reason you want the turnover?”

“Yep!”

“You're the worst.”

“You've told me that a lot.” As Hajime stands, Nagito bounces over and slings an arm over his shoulders. He stiffens. “Either that, or I get to hug you. And you have to hug me back.”

“I'll punch you.”

“No you won't. You owe me!”

He glares daggers at his friend. “Damn you.”

Nagito grins wolfishly.

Money or hug. Money or hug. He can afford the turnover, but it would definitely burn a hole in his wallet. He braces himself and turns toward Nagito, closing his eyes exasperatedly. “Fine. Whatever. Make it quick.”

“You have to hug me back!” Nagito crows triumphantly.

“Fine.”

Nagito almost tackles him, and he hugs him back stiffly, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. When they finally draw away, Hajime lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “You might be the most physically affectionate person I've ever met.”

“I know. But it's fun!” Nagito’s smile is almost cartoonishly large. “And you'll enjoy it someday, mark my words.”

“Your words are marked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter of the day! Sorry if it's dumb, but y'know. I hope you like it anyway. Again, if you liked something or thought I could've done something better, let me know in the comments! I hope to get that third chapter to you by the end of the day, but if all goes well, I should have it done by around noon! Possibly earlier, I'm not sure. I'm horrible at estimating time. And if you have a song for Komahina, or one for another pairing or other character that you'd like to specify, I'd be more than happy to oblige! I can't wait for your input!


	12. Beginning?

Hajime is confused. Probably a good deal more confused than he's ever been.

He slumps over a thin stack of paperwork at his desk and presses his fingers against the frame of the photo of him and Chiaki that Nagito asked him about on one of his first days here. “I don't get it,” he mutters.

Nagito has been devoting at least 99 percent of every waking moment trying to “bring the old Hajime back.” Hajime has laughed more in the last month and a half than he had since he turned sixteen. He's also been the target of twenty-four assassination attempts, but he doesn't mind. Nothing bad has happened yet.

Nagito is upbeat. Nagito is cheerful. Nagito is a depressed, suicidal mess when Hajime lets him, which he tries not to. Nagito has become his best and only friend. No one can drive him insane like Nagito does. No one can make his day better like Nagito does. No one else can make him laugh. Nagito is the best friend he's ever had. Even though he's a dick sometimes. But that doesn't matter.

And Hajime is confused, because the way he feels towards Nagito is starting to feel a bit like the way he felt towards Chiaki. And he kissed Chiaki. Many times. That was love.

“Don't get what?” Nagito asks from the doorway. Hajime curses his heart for doing a tiny little backflip in his chest, and immediately takes back the curse as he realizes his heart is what keeps him alive.

“I don't get what all this paperwork is for,” he lies smoothly. “ I'm semi-autonomous unless for some reason I need to bring the Intendant or one of my superiors in for help, so I don't understand why my paperwork is more than just tax forms. I have to write down - word for word - every letter I receive, even the ones from the Intendant. It's just busywork. It's ridiculous.”

“That's stupid,” Nagito agrees. “But not as stupid as your face.”

Hajime throws a paperweight at him, and Nagito barely catches it before it breaks his nose. “Easy there!” He laughs. “I'm just joking.”

“You're horrible.”

“You insult me because you're terrible at witty comebacks.”

“Witty comebacks are all you're good at.”

“There's no denying that!” Nagito grins. “Got any time? I'm bored.”

“Go entertain yourself then.”

“With what? Rocks?”

“Yes. Entertain yourself with rocks. And tell me how that goes.”

Nagito groans. “Come on. You're not _that_ busy.”

“Don't you think I would be the best judge of how busy I am? How am I going to entertain you anyway? As you've probably noticed, I've actually forgotten how to have fun.”

“You _are_ pretty boring. But that's okay! I don't care. I'm already bored, so you can't do any harm.”

“...I don't know how to respond to that.”

Nagito flicks him in the forehead. He smacks him back. “Fine,” Nagito says, walking out. “I guess I'll go entertain myself with rocks.”

“You do that. I want all the gory details later.”

“Oh, don't worry. I'll regale you with tales of my adventures with my rock friends over dinner.”

Hajime looks at the photo of Chiaki again once he's gone. Nope. He definitely doesn't love Nagito. Right?

 

After everyone else has gone to bed, Hajime carefully tiptoes downstairs to the front door and sneaks out. Chisa would kill him if she found him outside alone. She hasn't let him go anywhere without at least one companion since Monokuma’s first attempt on his life a month and a half ago, and it's driving him mad. He knows it's dangerous being out here alone at night but he'd rather risk his life than spend another second cooped up in that damn house for another second.

He sits down on the grass and leans against the wall, looking up at the cloudy night sky. This is always a good place to think. Tonight's subjects: Monokuma and Nagito.

Nagito. He might as well get this out of the way. He truly has no idea how he feels. No, that's not it. He knows how he feels, but he refuses to admit it. He knows full well that he's lying to himself, but he doesn't plan to tell himself the truth anytime soon. Still, he can indulge himself in the occasional more-than-platonic thought, like how Nagito’s pale skin looks almost perfectly white in the right light, and his grey eyes light a tiny fire inside Hajime when they get all intensely happy like they do so often. He shakes his head. He needs to stop.

Monokuma. Neither Nagito nor Chisa has brought up the matter of him joining Monokuma since the initial conversation about it. He's glad they've kept from giving him even more input, but he's still contemplating what they said. They're actually right. He could join Monokuma. But...he has a bad feeling about them. He can't quite put his finger on it. He's a strong supporter of overthrowing the king and putting in place a new system of government, but something tells him that's not all they're after.

But maybe he's wrong. He's been known to overthink things. And he's by no means a superstitious person, so he has to admit there's a good chance his gut feeling is completely off, possibly even unrelated. He's been leaning towards joining them, but then again, they're sort of trying to kill him right now, so it might be hard to achieve any level of diplomacy without risking his life.

“Hey!” says a voice behind him.

He groans, not turning around. “God damn it, are you just everywhere these days?”

“Yes, I am everywhere and nowhere at once. I am omnipotent.”

“Hi, omnipotent, I'm Hajime,” he says, allowing himself a small smile as Nagito sits down beside him.

Nagito cracks up. “That's a new one! I can see I'm making some headway.”

“Maybe you are.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Sitting. What are you doing out here?”

“I would say ‘sitting’ but you already said that, so I guess I'll be honest and say I was looking for you.”

“Oh? Why's that?”

“I couldn't sleep and you weren't in your room so I knew you were awake. I figured I'd come kill some time with you.”

“I'm honored.”

“So why are you sitting out here?”

“Thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how damn nosy you are.”

“Point taken. You're not a bad guy, you know.”

“What?”

“You're sort of a horrible person on the outside, but you have a pretty soft interior.”

“...Thank you? And this makes me not a bad guy?”

Nagito laughs. “It does! If I were to judge a book by its cover I think I'd hate you, but I understand you, so I can't hate you.”

“You just keep digging yourself deeper.” Hajime raises an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe!” He keeps laughing. “Just like me, huh?”

“You're the weirdest person I've ever met.”

“That's not saying much, seeing as I'm fairly certain the only people you've ever formally met are your family, your servants, me, and that girl you get information from,” Nagito reminds him.

“Believe me, if you'd met my little brother, you'd be shocked anyone could ever surpass him in weirdness. He almost attacked me with a block of wood when I went to go see him. But anyway, what brought this on?”

Nagito shrugs. “I dunno. I just felt like saying it.”

“Huh.” Hajime lies back and looks up at the sky, his head pillowed on his arms. Nagito stays sitting, and they lapse into companionable silence. “You're not a bad person either,” Hajime says after a long pause.

“What's this? A compliment from Hajime? Is the sky falling?” He covers his head with his arms and looks up through them in mock fearfulness.

“Shut up, I'm trying to be nice.”

“You made it awfully hard for me.”

“Only because I asked you what you meant and you made it sound like an worse trying to explain it. That was all you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“What’s this?” Hajime mocks him. “An insult from Nagito?”

Nagito giggles.

“Why are we friends again?” Hajime asks after a beat.

“You don’t want to be?” Nagito asks, immediately serious, his expression alarmed.

“No, you idiot.” Hajime pokes Nagito hard in the side, making the other boy yelp. “It was a joke.”

“Oh. Odd one.”

“Whatever. You just don’t get it.”

Nagito shrugs. “I don’t.” He picks a blade of grass and carefully slits it straight down the middle with a thumbnail. “I’m your only friend, correct? And you’re mine.”

“Yes?”

“Would that make us more than friends?”

“H-huh?”

Nagito pauses and looks at Hajime. He laughs. “Not like that! You might be smart, but you sure are clueless.”

Hajime snorts, trying to ignore a strange pang of disappointment in his gut. “Not much more than you!”

“See, I’m not as smart as you, but I’m also not nearly as clueless.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Nagito shakes his head and flicks absently at the two neat halves of his grass blade. “Anyway, what I meant was, people usually have lots of friends. Nanami? She made instant friends with all of the other people sent to Parley. But…when you have lots of friends, I think you don’t care about each individual as much as you would if you had only a few. It’s probably nice to be widely liked, but I’m not sure people really benefit from that situation. But when you only have a few, or only one, the individual matters much more than the group, because it’s all you have. I’m not really sure if you can really call them just your friends anymore. Best friend is just dumb.”

Hajime frowns. “Why overcomplicate it?”

“Because it needs to be right.” Nagito blows the grass off of his hand. “It’s got to be.”

“But why?”

He lifts his shoulders. “I…don’t know. It just does.”

Hajime pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks pensively up at Nagito. “I don’t know why you’d overcomplicated it like that. Why don’t you leave it be? Before there was language, nobody wondered what the word was for their only friend. It’s like…” He thinks for a moment. “It’s like trying to describe the sky right now.” He gestures upward. “Try it.”

Nagito frowns in confusion for a moment before obediently looking up. “It’s dark grey, I guess. The clouds are kind of swirly and there are little holes where you can see stars.”

“Does that do it any justice?”

“No.”

“No! But, personally, I don’t care. The sky is the sky. To describe it would be impossible. But trying won’t do you any good, so sometimes it’s best to just go about your life and not worry about it. If you need to you can make do, like your description of the sky or the word ‘friend.’”

“Says the biggest worrywart I know.”

“Says the only worrywart you know.”

Nagito laughs. “You’ve got a point.”

Hajime nods. “I know I do.” He lies back down and lets his eyes fall closed. They stay outside, the breeze making their hair sway in front of their faces, their breathing slowing into sync. It’s not until morning that Hajime realizes they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the third chapter of the day! Again, I think it might have taken a downturn, but I'll try to recover, I promise. As it is, it was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoy! If you had something you liked or that I could've done better, let me know! Thanks for reading! And I'm always open for any songs, Komahina or otherwise, for my songfic!


	13. Panic

Hajime’s eyes stretch wide in alarm as he stares through the tiny pinholes in the mask at the girl’s eyes behind it. He wonders fleetingly how she sees through it, but his attention is mostly focused on the knifepoint digging into the skin beneath his chin. He can feel a tiny, hot trail of blood running down his neck. The girl’s mask is ridiculous, but still terrifying – she looks like a teddy bear, one half of the mask white, the other black, a red slash in place of the left eye and a malicious grin stretching across the black side. “You’re Monokuma,” he says, trying desperately to keep his voice steady, but it quavers over the last two syllables.

“Yes.”

“You’re here to kill me.”

“Not if I can make you see reason.”

He can feel Nagito pounding on the door at his back. “Hajime! Let me in! What was that sound?”

The girl shakes her head. “Don’t reply,” she says in a whisper.

He stays silent.

“You won’t give in to us. Why?”

“I’ve been promised far worse punishment by my superiors if I do.”

“Far worse? Than death?”

“I’d imagine it would end with my death eventually, but only after I was begging for it.”

“And what if I kill you right now?”

“Then I suppose I’m dead.” But his heart is hammering against his ribcage, and he knows he doesn’t want to die.

“You still think whatever your stupid superiors can do will be worse than what I can do to you? Because I’m pretty good at improvisation.”

His heart pounds harder. “I-I’m far more scared of th-them than I am of you.”

To his surprise, she leans away from him, and he wipes blood off of his neck. “Fine. You’ll regret this.” She turns from him and leaps out the window, and he slides to the floor, breathing heavily, residual terror still burning hot in his veins.

Nagito slams at the door. “Hajime! I swear I’ll kick this door down if you don’t open the hell up!”

He gulps and takes a deep breath, composing himself, at least outwardly. Trying not to tremble, he stands up and slowly pulls open the door. Nagito flies in. “Hajime, holy shit, I heard glass breaking and I didn’t know what it was and I came up here and I heard voices and I know someone just tried to kill you and how did you get them to go away and – wait, are you bleeding?”

He presses his thumb to the cut. “N-no,” he says, cursing his voice for giving him away. He was doing so well, too.

Nagito’s eyes are wide. “What. The hell. Happened.”

“Some girl from Monokuma happened. I’m fine.” He walks over to his desk and starts sweeping broken glass from the window off of his papers.

“Hajime – ”

“Just leave me alone, Nagito. Okay?”

Nagito pauses, but a moment later footsteps let Hajime know that his friend is gone. As soon as he’s sure he’s left, he slumps into his chair heavily and puts his head in his hands, trying not to cry. Holy shit. Holy shit. He’s still alive. But…

_You’ll regret this._

And he’s sure he will. Thank god Chisa is off spending time with her fiancé today. She wouldn’t have left him alone.

 

Hajime doesn’t go to dinner. The bell rings four or five times, but he stays where he is, and it stops ringing. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now. His mother always taught him never to show weakness in front of others, and a lesson drilled into him for sixteen years is hard to get past. He can make his servants not care, but Nagito…he doesn’t want Nagito to see him like this.

_You’ll regret this._ The girl will be back, or someone will, and he’s going to wish he had just given in. He has no doubt. He shudders with anticipated pain.

“Hey…Hajime?” Nagito’s voice says quietly, tentatively.

Hajime looks up slowly, releasing his death grip on his hair and wincing as he realizes how much it hurt to pull on it. “What? Shouldn’t you be eating?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m not going to eat without you. I _am_ a guest. I shouldn’t eat without my host.” He smiles a little. “And…you’re clearly not okay. It’s sort of my job to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

He closes his eyes. He’s heard that word way too many times since Nagito arrived, but there’s something strangely comforting about it, even if he’s finally allowed himself to admit he’d sort of like to be more than that, and not in the way Nagito has brought up before, but in the way he was with Chiaki. He doesn’t want to replace her, but…maybe it’s time for him to move on, if he can. “And what if I told you that the best way to help me would be to leave me the hell alone?”

“Then I’d go away. But I don’t think that’d be the best way to help you.”

“You don’t? Then what is?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”

Hajime sighs. “You can’t help me. The assassin woman will be back one of these days. No matter what I do, whether I hand my position over to Monokuma, join them, or refuse to cooperate, I’m completely and totally fucked. Either Junko Enoshima will torture and kill me or Monokuma will torture and kill me. There’s not a whole lot you can do to help me.”

“Emotionally, though?”

“There’s not a lot you can do to dampen sheer terror, Nagito,” he says quietly.

Nagito’s eyes widen at the admission, and he goes around the desk, rubbing Hajime’s back gently, and for the first time, Hajime doesn’t want to flinch away when Nagito touches him. He sighs. “But you know. Terror is useless too. It’s not getting me anywhere.”

“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” Nagito says.

Hajime frowns up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You either hide what you’re feeling or you completely disregard it after you admit it. You can feel how you feel. You…don’t have a lot of time left to feel it, you know?”

Hajime snorts. “No, I don’t. But that’s all the more reason not to feel it. It’s useless and the last thing I want to do is live in fear for however long I have left.”

Nagito groans and shrugs. “Suit yourself. Maybe I will eat.”

Hajime frowns and watches him leave. Frustration definitely isn’t an emotion he sees often from Nagito. Maybe never. “Nagito, wait!” Nagito doesn’t turn around. “What did I do?”

He follows Nagito all the way to the dining room, where Nagito whirls around, a huge grin on his face. “You followed me! It worked!” Hajime punches him in the stomach, and Nagito doubles over, laughing. “Let’s eat!”

Teruteru stands with his arms crossed over his chest, drumming his fingers on his arm, and when Hajime sits down, he takes the food off of his cart thing and drops it unceremoniously on the table. “Enjoy,” he snaps, leaving the room, the rest of the servants trailing behind him like a line of ducklings.

Nagito leans across the table and taps Hajime’s plate with his fork. “Eat! You’ll realize how hungry you are.”

Hajime shakes his head. “You’re like a happier version of my mother.”

“I am your mother.” At Hajime’s withering glare, he grins and taps the plate again. “I’m not eating until I see you take a bite.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Love you too. Now dig in.”

He ignores the little flutter his heart does at the “Love you too” and obediently stabs the generous filet of salmon on his plate. He takes a giant bite.

Nagito smiles and picks up his knife, cutting the fish into pieces.

Hajime’s about to put another bite in his mouth when he feels a stab of pain in his abdomen. He frowns and shrugs. Maybe he’s catching something. He swallows the next bite. _Stab._ His fork clatters to his plate and he breaks out in a sweat, pushing away from the table and stumbling away. “Hajime?” Nagito says, but it’s like he’s hearing it from a thousand miles away. He covers his mouth with his hand and coughs, staring as blood spatters his fingers. “Hajime!” _Stab._ He falls to his knees and cries out in agony, leaning forward until his forehead is pressed against the floor. Nagito’s hands grip his shoulders and the boy is yelling his name but the feeling and the noise fade as his vision goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I'm just cranking this shit out, huh? I only posted my newest songfic this morning!  
> Hello! There are definite cons to posting several times in a short period of time, like I didn't read this to see how it sounded at all, but I hope you enjoyed it, because it sure was a fun chapter to write! We got to see Monokuma, and the end of the chapter surprised me a lot. I thought something very different would happen, to be honest. XD The pros of totally winging it!  
> As always, if you liked something or had something you thought I could've done better, please let me know in the comments! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> Also, for those of you enjoying my songfic series: I only have one more song left to write to. If I run out, I might do one or two of my own, but I'd hate to keep doing that when it's supposed to be a request series, so if you want it to continue and you have a song for Komahina, or you'd like to give me one for a different pairing or character or really whatever you want from Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Another Episode, or (sobbing in the background) Dangan Ronpa 3, tell me! Even if you've already given me a song, I'd always love to hear another! I love getting introduced to new music, and it's even more fun to write to it!   
> That's that for this chapter! I hope you liked it!


	14. Surprise

The first thing Hajime notices is the sunlight. It dyes the backs of his eyelids bright red, and he squeezes his eyes shut tighter as it sends a spike of pain through his head. It’s too bright.

He waits until his eyes adjust a little and blinks his eyes open, squinting in the early morning light. It filters through the thin curtains in his bedroom, and the pillowcase beneath his head rustles faintly as he looks around. He really is in his bedroom. But how did he get here? The last thing he remembers is following Nagito to dinner. Did he get drunk or something? But he thought Chisa got rid of all the alcohol in the house?

He looks down to see Nagito slumped in a chair beside his bed, his head pillowed on one arm on the mattress, the other hand…holding Hajime’s. The boy’s clearly fast asleep, and Hajime doesn’t want to wake him, but it takes all of his self-control not to whip his hand out of Nagito’s immediately. He forces himself to stay still. Why is Nagito in his room? Why does he have a headache? Why is he slowly realizing that his insides feel like they were smashed like grapes in a vineyard? Why does he have no feeling in his toes? How the hell did he get here?

He pushes up into a sitting position, and freezes as Nagito stirs. His friend straightens, rubbing his eyes. He blinks several times at Hajime, and then his eyes widen. Hajime doesn’t have time to say anything before Nagito throws his arms around him and buries his face in Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime swallows hard. “Uh…Nagi – ”

“I thought you’d die,” Nagito says quietly.

“Wh – huh?”

Nagito doesn’t answer. Hajime is just about to ask him to get off when Nagito brings his face up, gives him a tiny smile, full of relief and sadness and exhaustion, and kisses him.

Hajime’s eyes stretch wide, and he holds his breath involuntarily, refusing to acknowledge that the feeling of Nagito’s lips on his is actually kind of nice. He gapes at Nagito as the other boy pulls away, cups his cheek, and leaves the room. Hajime stares at the wall across from him, trying to remember how to think.

What…was that?

Chisa explodes into the room maybe ten minutes later. “Hajime! What the hell happened? Are you okay? How do you feel?”

He looks up at her dumbly. “What?”

“Did the poison make you brain-dead?”

“Uh…?”

She snaps her fingers in front of his face, and he shakes his head roughly, snapping out of it. “What did you say?”

She feels his forehead with the back of her hand. “You have a fever. I’ll be right back.” She whirls out of the room as quickly as she came, and he watches her go.

“Would someone please explain what’s going on?” he yells out into the hallway. Sighing, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and pushes up into a standing position, only to collapse quickly as his headache shoots a bolt of agony through his skull.

Someone catches him and hauls him up again, and he pries his eyes open to see Nagito’s arms wrapped around him. “Easy there.”

Hajime pushes away and falls to the floor on his back. “What the…what was that?”

“Uh…I didn’t want you to fall?”

“No, the…earlier!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you need help getting up?”

Hajime doesn’t know how to react to this at all. He stammers incoherently, trying to find something to say, and Nagito holds out a hand. After a beat, Hajime grabs it, and Nagito’s other arm wraps around his waist, pulling him up and setting him back in bed. Nagito grins as Hajime resettles himself. “It’s good to see you awake!”

“You…why did you kiss me?”

Nagito snorts and cracks up. “Why did I _what?_ Are you having dreams about me now, Hajime?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Uh, actually, I don’t.”

He shakes his head. He’s getting nowhere with this. “Whatever. I know you do. Anyway, can you explain why I feel like shit? Because I don’t remember and Chisa freaked out about it.”

“Well…what’s the last thing you _do_ remember?”

“Following you down to the dining room. You were mad at me for some reason, but I had no idea why.”

Nagito nods and laughs. “I wasn’t actually angry! When we got to the dining room I turned around because I’d just wanted you to follow me. You needed to eat. You punched me.”

“Okay…” That sounds vaguely familiar. “We had salmon for dinner, right?”

“You did. I was still sort of tearing mine apart, but you took a few bites and backed away from the table and you were really pale so I said your name and then you coughed up blood and collapsed and I ran over to you and carried you here. Chisa was just getting back and I told her to go get help so she did. Some doctor, though; he seemed like he was trying to make you better in the most painful way possible. And he stopped coming to check on you after a day or two. When Chisa went to go find him again he’d left his house and there was nothing there. So we had to do our best. It was really touch-and-go for a few days. We were sure you were going to die.”

“…Oh. So I was poisoned?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” He studies the sheets. “Wait, how long was I unconscious?”

“Six days, give or take a few hours.”

“Six _days_? Shit!”

“Shit what?”

“Has anything from Junko come?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno. You’d have to ask Chisa about that.”

“Shit! She gives me a three-day deadline for things. I’ve already made too many mistakes…go get Chisa!”

“Hajime, should you really be doing paperwork like – ”

“Go get her!”

Nagito sighs and leaves the room. Hajime runs his hand through his hair. “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” he mutters.

Chisa stalks into the room, Nagito at her heels. “What is this I hear about you wanting to do paperwork?”

“Has Lady Enoshima sent anything?”

“ _Lord Hinata,_ you are in no condition to do any sort of work.”

“I’m fine, Chisa! Do I have anything from her?”

“No, you don’t.” She spins on her heel and leaves.

“You think she’s telling the truth?” Hajime asks Nagito.

“That’s not really for me to say. But…I really am glad you’re awake. I was…really…really worried about you.” He scratches his neck, embarrassed.

“I’m glad I’m awake, too. Can you stay here? I’ll get seriously bored if I don’t have anyone to talk to, what with my inability to get out of bed and seek entertainment on my own.”

“Sure! Of course.” Nagito sits in the chair beside the bed, and Hajime rubs his own palm with his thumb absentmindedly, remembering the feeling of Nagito’s fingers around his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...so I know a lot of you have been keeping up with my songfic series as well, and I do feel genuinely bad about the newest update this morning, so I decided to update No Replacements with something I thought you'd like better! As always, if you like something, or think I could do something better, please, let me know in the comments! Thank you so much for reading!


	15. Anxiety

Hajime snaps awake as he feels a hand over his mouth. For the second time, he finds himself face-to-face with the unnerving black and white bear mask, and kicks at his attacker feebly, but he’s still recovering from Monokuma’s poison, and she just laughs and shakes her head. “You’ll have to do better than that. You scream and I kill you, okay?”

He glares at her.

“Okay?”

He nods slowly, and she removes her hand from his mouth. She crosses her arms. “It would seem that no matter what we do, we can’t kill you. And, quite honestly, we’d much rather just have you cooperate. You’re of far more value to us alive. This last time was the first time we managed to even touch you, and yet you still survived. Barely, but still.”

“I don’t see your point. Are you admitting defeat?”

“As tempting as it sounds to not have to stalk you anymore, no. But I do have a point. You see, I have friends, too, and I know I’d do anything to help them.”

“You… _bitch._ ”

She laughs. “But he’s not just a friend to you, is he?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, silly, I already have dared! Or, rather, one of my aforementioned friends has.” She taps his nose just like Nagito sometimes does, and Hajime can hear in her voice her amusement at his horrified expression. “We think we might just have the solution we need to get you to cooperate. If you would just follow me.”

She walks confidently toward the door, but Hajime leaps out of bed and blows past her, having to constantly right himself as his legs try to give way but desperate to check on Nagito. His feet pound against the carpet, and he keeps one hand extended toward the wall in case he falls. The woman’s giggle echoes after him.

She’s lying. She has to be. There’s no way –

He stops in his tracks when he hears a piercing scream from ahead, followed by another, and another. The agonized shrieking rings through the halls almost continuously, its producer hardly stopping for breath, and Hajime immediately recognizes it.   
“No!” he yells, running again and immediately tripping over his feet and falling to the ground. He climbs up again and sprints forward. Just as he enters Nagito’s room, the screams stop and he can do nothing but stand and stare.

Nagito sprawls on his bed, spread eagle, his right fist clenched tight. A long dagger is embedded in his other hand up to the hilt, the other end protruding from the back between his knuckles. Deep slashes are cut straight across his thighs, mutilating them completely, and blood soaks his pants and the wall beside him. A horrible wound gapes in his abdomen, blood oozing across his chest, a terrible metallic stench permeating the room. His eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling with a look of unbridled terror, but they’re oddly glassy, and his face is contorted into a grimace of pure agony.

Hajime screams.

 

He winces as he hits the ground hard, his sheets wrapped around him like a cocoon, and he struggles free of them, panicking, his clothes and hair drenched in cold sweat and the Monokuma woman’s laughter like a mosquito whine in his ear. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his hands, the floor beneath him cold. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles into his fingers.

The nightmares have been getting worse. Sometimes they’re like they used to be, with Chiaki and the storm, but now he’s faced with new ones, sometimes seeing Nagito die, sometimes seeing them both die, sometimes, like this time, hearing Monokuma torture his only friend to death and only getting there when it’s too late.

Morning light is just starting to pool at the foot of his bed when he pulls himself into a standing position with the aid of the bedpost.

There’s a knock at his door and he flings himself back into bed, pulling the covers over him hurriedly. “Yes?”

“Hey!” Nagito comes in with a bright smile. “I’m here to keep you company.”

“Shouldn’t you be having breakfast.”

He looks back regretfully. “No. Since Chisa won’t let Teruteru cook after the whole poison thing, the girl who’s taken over has to learn how to cook, and she’s pretty slow for now. Her food’s alright, but it’ll be a while.” He frowns. “I’d think you’d know that. Haven’t you been eating?”

“Yeah, but I don’t pay much attention to when I get my meals, I guess.” He’s been eating…but he doesn’t bother to tell Nagito that he probably hasn’t been eating enough.

“Ah. How are you feeling?”

“Eh. Better, I guess, but, not really.”

Nagito frowns in worry. “You look pale.”

“Do I?”

“Definitely.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t sleep all that well last night. Maybe that’s it.” The nightmare is still haunting him, and if he doesn’t focus hard on keeping his mind in the present, he can just see blood soaking through Nagito’s clothes, and the feeling in his eyes is replaced by glassy terror.

“Maybe.” But Nagito looks doubtful. “Anyway. Do you want to try getting up again today? We can’t have your muscles atrophying, can we?” His grin is wide, but Hajime knows him well enough to know that he’s hiding something.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Something’s wrong. What is it?”

Nagito furrows his brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We agreed to be honest with each other, remember?” Hajime raises an eyebrow. “And I know you’re lying.”

“You’re not being very honest with me, either.” Nagito sighs and abandons any pretense of joviality. “I’m worried.”

“Hi, worried, I’m Hajime.”

Nagito rolls his eyes and laughs a little. “You’re absolutely hilarious. But I’m worried about you, Hajime. You…don’t seem okay. You’re different.”

“I don’t seem okay? I feel okay. I mean, besides the whole I-almost-died thing.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Emotionally. You seem tired and frazzled all the time, and the bags under your eyes are darker every day.”

“Again. I’m being hunted by the largest rebel organization the kingdom’s ever seen.”

“But that’s never seemed to bother you before. I want to know what’s wrong with you, and if you don’t want to tell me, at least let me know how I can help.”

He actually wants to tell Nagito. He really does. But _I’m worried said rebel organization is going to try to capture, torture, and/or kill you to manipulate me into doing what they want_ definitely isn’t the thing that’s going to set his friend at ease. “I’ll tell you. Just…not now.”

“Then when?”

“When this entire Monokuma situation has blown over one way or another. Don’t ask me to until then.”

“Hajime, we have no way of knowing when that will be, if it will, and I want to help you.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Hajime – ”

“Nagito, I don’t say this often, but please? Will you please leave it be?”

Nagito pauses, chewing his lip. “Fine,” he says finally, and he puts the fake smile on again. “Anyway! About getting up?”

“Absolutely. I’m so sick of sitting here.”

Nagito grins and nods. “I’d bet. Want help?”

“Am I going to even make it out of the room without it?”

“Probably not.”

Hajime swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and Nagito comes over, slinging Hajime’s arm around his shoulders and wrapping his arm around his waist. Hajime stands, gritting his teeth against the pain in his stomach and head, and Nagito gives him a concerned glance. “You okay?”

“Yes. I am. Let’s go or I’ll pass out.”

Nagito reluctantly moves away from the bed, walking slowly with Hajime, and Hajime silently allows himself to enjoy the feeling of Nagito’s side against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> I hope you enjoyed. I've got big plans for the next chapter but I'm not sure about them yet.   
> As always, thanks for reading! If you've got something you liked or that I could've done better, please, let me know! And the offer to write any song you want for any sort of SDR2 thing you want me to still stands! I'd love to hear from you!


	16. Scare

“Why don’t you ever have anyone else here?” Nagito asks suddenly.

Hajime looks up in surprise from his dinner. “Huh?”

“We’re the only people here most of the time,” he says, gesturing around the room. “Don’t you Nobles have parties and things all the time? You’ve never had one as long as I’ve been here. What has it been now? Seven months? Eight?”

“I don’t like people.”

Nagito makes a pouting face. “Don’t you like me?”

“You don’t count.”

Nagito laughs. “I don’t count as a human?”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “You know what I meant, idiot.”

“Speaking of how long I’ve been here…” He grins. “If I’ve been here about seven months, then I’ve got about eleven left to win that bet.”

“You do, indeed. And how’s that going for you?”

“Great, actually! I think I’ve made a lot of progress,” he says. He rests his chin on his hand.

“Really?” Hajime frowns at him. He doesn’t feel any different.

“Yeah!” He leans forward across the table, and Hajime eyes him warily. “Tell me, Hajime, how long has it been since you last listened to music?”

“I dunno. A while. I don’t really have any phonographs around. Or records. I don’t know how I’d listen to music at all.”

“Well, then. I have a solution to that!” He goes to the door and calls, “Chisa!”

“Don’t tell me you – ”

Nagito looks at him and grins. “Yep. I had Chisa pick one up yesterday. Music heals the heart, Hajime.”

“My heart doesn’t need healing!”

Chisa hands Nagito something, and he carries it, exaggerating its weight, to the table, where he sets it down with a loud _thunk._ Hajime rubs his face with a hand as Nagito fiddles with the phonograph and a soft waltz begins playing. When Hajime opens his eyes again Nagito is standing over him, pushing his plate away from him. “May I have this dance?” he asks, grinning, bowing to Hajime.

“You want me to dance with you?” Hajime says incredulously.

“Indeed I do, my lady.”

“Fuck you.”

Nagito laughs. “Seriously, though. Dance with me.”

“You’re a boy.”

“Thanks for noticing. Surely your mother had you take dance lessons?”

“I am also a boy.”

“I am aware. I’d bet you’re a great dancer, too.”

“I’m not going to dance with you.”

“I beg to differ.” Nagito seizes Hajime’s hand and pulls him out of his chair, twirling him around.

Hajime goes along with it and glares at Nagito as the other boy puts one hand on Hajme’s waist and takes his hand with the other. “Let me go.”

“Come on, you need this. Quite frankly, so do I. Why not dance together? We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Friends don’t dance together!”

“Only strangers and lovers?”

“Yes!”

“You know, I was right. You are a great dancer.” They’re moving quickly across the dining room now.

Hajime rolls his eyes. “I’m a Noble. I have to be.”

“But anyway. Why can’t friends dance?”

“Because dances are traditionally between members of opposite sexes. And it’s just weird.”

Nagito shrugs. “That’s stupid. This is fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “And if you wanted, we could be one of the two?”

“Of the two what?”

“Strangers and lovers.”

“Wh…huh?” he says entirely too loudly.

Nagito laughs, almost treading on Hajime’s toes in his mirth. “I’m just kidding.” He steps back from Hajime and stops the phonograph. “Anyway, it’s late, huh? I’m getting pretty tired.”

“Um…I guess so.”

Nagito smiles. “Well, I guess it’s time for bed, huh?”

“Sure?”

Nagito nods and heads toward the door. Hajime follows him. This has been a weird evening. They walk in companionable silence side-by-side up to Hajime’s room, and Nagito turns towards him when they get there. “Guess I’m off to my own room.”

“Okay. Good night.”

Nagito smiles. “Good night.” He pauses for a heartbeat and leans in, giving Hajime a gentle, slow kiss on the cheek, and then turns and walks away.

Hajime blinks after him. “Uh…Nagito?”

Nagito just waves back at him over his shoulder. “’Night, Haj!”

“Haj?”

There’s no answer, and Hajime just looks after him, nonplussed, and then turns, heading into his own room and falling into bed.

 

“Hey,” someone whispers. “Hey, brat! Wake up!”

Hajime squeezes his eyes shut and groans. He’s so sleepy. He doesn’t want to wake up.

Someone slaps him and he starts awake, staring around in alarm. What the hell? Who is in his room?

He spots the dark silhouette of a woman just as a hand pushes his head back so that he can only stare straight up at the ceiling. “Hey. How’d you sleep?”

He recognizes the voice all too well. “Shit! No! Get out of here!” He thrashes around, but his wrists and ankle are tied down.

“Oh, don’t worry, little one. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then leave! Go away! Leave me alone!”

“A little frazzled, are we? Unfortunately, I can’t leave quite yet. I haven’t done what I came here to do.”

“You’re an assassin. Kill me and get it over with.”

“Ah, ah, ah, no can do, Haj.” He can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Don’t call me that.” He glares daggers at her.

“I think you’ll be letting me call you whatever I want when I’m done here.”

“You said you won’t hurt me. You said you won’t kill me. What do you want, dammit?”

“I want you to join Monokuma. Or give yourself up.”

“Joining? That’s new. But no.”

“Still think your ‘superiors’ can do more harm to you than I can?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, think again.”

There’s a quiet groan from the corner of the room, and then Nagito’s voice says, “…Huh? What’s going on?”

Hajime locks eyes with the woman, staring through the mask at the malicious glint in his eye. “No. No.”

“Yep!” she says, almost gleefully. She moves away from him and places a small lantern on his nightstand, just bright enough to illuminate the whole room.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t. Don’t.” He struggles against his bonds again, but to no avail.

She draws a dagger and touches the point to the mouth of her mask. “It’s been so long since I got to do this.” Nagito’s slumped against the wall, a dark bruise on his forehead, looking around, dazed. She must have hit him hard. She leans over Nagito but keeps her body carefully out of Hajime’s line of sight. She giggles and puts the dagger away as if as an afterthought, and takes Nagito’s hand. Looking pointedly at Hajime, she takes his index finger and snaps it back brutally. Nagito yells.

“No!” Hajime shakes his head desperately. “Leave him alone!”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Please! Please, leave him alone, please!”

She thinks for a moment, putting her finger to her chin. “Hm. On second thought, no.” She breaks his wrist with a horrible crack, and Nagito screams again.

“I’ll do anything! Please, don’t touch him! Please!” Hajime’s voice is shrill, panicked, and he’s surprised just hearing it. He’s never heard himself sound like this.

She reaches for her belt again, drawing a small knife, and reaches toward Nagito. Hajime makes a pained noise, and she looks back at him. “It’s okay, I’m a professional. I won’t kill him. Yet.” She grabs Nagito’s arm as the boy tries to get away from her and spins him around, pulling him to his feet. She slashes the knife across the planes of his shoulders brutally, eliciting another piercing scream, and he tries to drop to his knees, but she holds him up by his bicep and scores her knife across his back again, higher. “If you don’t comply soon, though, I might just…slip.” Her next slice cuts into the side of Nagito’s neck.

“Please, stop, please, I’m begging you, I’ll join you, I promise!”

“You will, huh?” Her knife hovers a millimeter away from the base of Nagito’s skull, and Hajime knows her next slash will kill his friend.

“I will! I promise! I really will! And if you’re going to kill him anyway, kill me instead, please, don’t kill him, don’t touch him again, please don’t.” The last two words come out as a sob.

“Interesting. And what’s in it for me?”

“For you?”

“See, assassin pay isn’t that great. It’s always nice to get a little tip once in a while.”

“I’ll give you all the money you want! Anything! Just don’t kill him, please!” He’s really crying now.

“I want twelve hundred Grands.”

“In a bag in my desk! It’s down the hall.”

She laughs. “You’re easy. I like you. Alright. I won’t kill your friend. But I hope you’ll understand if I want to have fun with him a little longer.”

“No!”

“Awwwww. Well, if you say so.” She pauses and exchanges her tiny knife for her original dagger and plunges it into Nagito’s side. The boy shrieks in agony, and blood drips down to the floor as she drops him. He thuds to the floor, limp and silent. “There. That dagger’s for you. If you carry it, anyone in Monokuma will know you’re one of them.” She unties one of his hands and launches herself out the window.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh, sorry...  
> Anyway! As always, thanks for reading! If you liked something or thought I could've done something better, please, let me know in the comments! And I desperately need songs for the songfic, so if you have one, that'd be great!


	17. Relief

Hajime frantically unties his limbs and rolls out of bed, thumping to the ground. A hot, coppery smell fills the room, and Nagito’s body is still, lifeless.

 _No, not lifeless!_ Hajime shakes his head roughly and climbs hurriedly to his feet. _Not lifeless!_ He launches himself toward Nagito and falls to his knees beside him, ignoring the warm wetness of the boy’s shirt as he rolls him over. “Nagito! Nagito! Fuck!” He feels for a pulse and sighs in relief as it taps weakly against his fingertips. “Don’t die, don’t die…” He closes his hand around the handle of the dagger in his friend’s side, and he doesn’t know whether or not to pull it out.

“Haj…ime?” Nagito croaks.

Hajime shakes his head. “Don’t talk. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Never seen you…so worried.” He smiles a little, chuckling hoarsely and then wincing.

“Shut up, damn it.”

“That’s more like you.” He closes his eyes.

Hajime leans over him. “Don’t you dare pass out, Nagito. Don’t. Stay with me.”

“…Okay,” he mumbles as he relaxes.

“Nagito!” No answer. “Fuck!” He doesn’t know what to do. What does he do? He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, gritting his teeth. What does he do?

Someone pounds at the door. “Hajime! Let me in! Let me in!” Chisa yells, sounding almost frantic. “What was that screaming?”

He springs to his feet and unlocks the door, and she almost falls in on him. She takes one look at the terrified look in Hajime’s eyes and Nagito’s unconscious body and her gaze hardens as she visibly forces herself to gather her composure. “Do you know what to do?”

“No!” He doesn’t even try to seem calm as she walks briskly forward and crouches next to Nagito. He follows after her anxiously, feeling helpless and useless.

She sets one hand firmly on his chest and another on the handle of the dagger. She throws a hard glance at Hajime. “Get me a towel.”

He whips around and sprints down the hall, almost running into the door to the storage closet and yanking it open. He pulls a towel out and runs back.

She takes the towel roughly and hesitates. “Wait!” Hajime says, his eyes wide, as she tightens her grip. “What if…don’t…”

She looks up at him in surprise, and her gaze softens. Without a word she looks back down and pulls the dagger out, immediately pressing the towel hard to the deep gash in Nagito’s side, leaning on it with all her weight. Soon it’s dripping with crimson, and it seeps between her figures. Hajime watches Nagito’s lips turn blue in horror. “Go get another one!” she barks at him, and he races out. He drops to his knees beside her and adds his strength, not wanting to stand and do nothing anymore. Finally, the bleeding slows to a stop, and Hajime feels for Nagito’s pulse again. It’s even weaker than before, but it’s still there, and he gulps. “What now?”

“We wait, I suppose.” She looks up at him, and he’s surprised at the fear he can see in her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Hajime nods, watching the faint rise and fall of Nagito’s chest. “Okay.” He sinks to the floor and sits down heavily. “I told him he’d be okay.”

“You…care about him a lot, don’t you?”

He’s too tired, too scared to even pretend otherwise. He nods.

“He cares about you, too. A lot.” She stands and brushes off her nightgown, even though the part that was touching the floor is stained with blood. “It’s almost morning. We should probably go about the day as usual. It isn’t going to help us – or him – to dwell on this. But I don’t want to move him far, and he can’t very well stay on the floor.”

“He can stay in here,” Hajime says immediately. He kneels and slides his arms underneath Nagito’s shoulders. “Help me carry him.”

She takes Nagito’s legs and they lift him into Hajime’s bed. Chisa pulls the covers over him. “You must be tired,” she says to Hajime.

“Very.”

“You could sleep in his room.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll sleep in here.”

She gives him a small smile and leaves as he climbs into bed beside Nagito. He stays as close to the edge as possible, so he doesn’t disturb his friend, and after a long, agonizing hour, he finally welcomes sleep.

 

He wakes up to late afternoon sun. Groggily, he stirs and opens his eyes to find himself face to face with Nagito, who has a tiny smile on his sleeping face. The white-haired boy’s arm is wrapped loosely around Hajime, and he realizes with a jolt of embarrassment that he has his head resting on the junction of Nagito’s arm and shoulder, and he has his arm on the boy’s chest, his fingers curled in his shirt. He blinks. _How the fuck…?_ He moves his legs uneasily, but he doesn’t know how to extricate himself from Nagito’s grasp without disturbing his friend.

He sighs quietly. There’s no way he can move right now. He’ll have to wait for Nagito to let go of him.

He watches Nagito’s eyes flutter slowly beneath his eyelids. The color’s returned to his face, and he looks better. The sunlight makes his skin look like porcelain, his hair as soft as cotton. Hajime takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes at himself as he leans forward and places a tiny kiss on the boy’s cheek. _No one has to know I did that._

But to his dismay, Nagito blinks his eyes open with a little sleepy murmur. “Hajime?” he mumbles in surprise.

“Sorry. Go to sleep.”

Nagito stares at him, then smiles and kisses him ever so gently. Hajime’s heart pounds almost painfully against his ribcage, but after a moment he sighs. He doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t see the point of pretending. He kisses him back, cupping his cheek with his hand, and Nagito draws him closer. “You really were worried about me,” he whispers softly against his lips.

“No shit.” Hajime kisses him again, pressing close to him. He’s wanted to do this for a long, long time.

Nagito winces as his bad hand gets stuck between them. Hajime arches his back and Nagito pulls his hand away and surrenders to Hajime’s insistent kiss, smiling. Hajime doesn’t even hear the knock on the door before Chisa comes in, a tray of food in her hands. He freezes and looks around, Nagito laughing quietly beside him.

She stares at them. “I’ll…just leave this here,” she says, a smile forming on her lips. She sets the tray down on the nightstand and hurries out.

Hajime looks back at Nagito, and he has to admit he loves this feeling, the closeness of their bodies, the way he can feel the heat of Nagito’s breath on his nose, the way he truly doesn’t give a damn what he looks like or what anyone might think of him right now because he knows Nagito doesn’t care either and that’s enough for him.

“So I guess you’re going to stop pretending you’re not head over heels in love with me?” Nagito grins at him.

“Definitely.” He raises an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a problem for you, though, huh?”

Nagito laughs. “I didn’t even try to hide it. I’m not trying now, either.” Their lips brush gently again.

“Are you hungry?” Hajime asks.

“No, of course not. I was tortured and stabbed. It’s going to take a while to get my appetite back.”

“Well, in that case, you should go back to sleep. I’m going to eat.” He pushes up so he’s sitting against the headboard, and Nagito withdraws his good arm.

“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses the back of Hajime’s hand and closes his eyes.

Hajime rolls his eyes but he can’t help but grin as he leans over to pull the food toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey!  
> The Hope Side of Danganronpa 3 made me cry it was so good and it put me in an amazing mood so you've got that to thank for the end of the chapter here.  
> As always, thank you for reading! If there's something you liked or thought I could do better, please let me know in the comments!  
> Also. I have only one more song to use for the request series. I can't continue if I don't get more requests. If you've got a song for anything else Super Dangan Ronpa 2-related, I'd love to hear it! Thank you!


	18. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone in need of reference, the Nobles, in descending order, are:
> 
> Junko Enoshima  
> Makoto Naegi  
> Ibuki Mioda  
> Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu  
> Kiyotaka Ishimaru  
> Mahiru Koizumi  
> Gundham Tanaka  
> Hajime Hinata
> 
> Hope that helps!

Hajime jumps as Nagito sprints into his office and jumps up to sit on his desk, sliding off the other side and knocking a paperweight and stacks of envelopes to the floor. “Heya, Hajime!”  
“Nagito, you better pick that up.”

Nagito holds up his bad hand and sticks his lower lip out in a pout. “You’d ask a cripple to pick up your things.”

“Yes. Because the so-called cripple was the one who knocked them down in the first place. Pick them up.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“Pick them up or I’ll break your other hand.”

Nagito laughs and crouches, gathering the scattered envelopes with his good hand. After a moment, Hajime sighs and grudgingly slides out of his chair to help, earning a kiss from Nagito that makes his cheeks flush.

 

Since the whole incident with the Monokuma assassin, Nagito has had almost more energy, if that’s even possible. Even with a broken finger and wrist, both wrapped in splints, the finger tied gently to the one next to it, and still-healing gashes in his back, he’s more than capable of wreaking havoc. Yesterday Hajime woke up at one in the morning to Nagito lying on top of him, fast asleep. Strangely, though, he doesn’t really mind. And for the first time, he can’t say he’s really opposed to the increase in affection from his friend – friend?

 

“So why are you in here, anyway?” Hajime asks once they have everything put back on his desk.

“Oh! Right! I was thinking we could go out today.”

“If you want to go out you don’t need me to go with you. You’re not a child or anything.”

“Yes, I am!” Yes, he is. “But that’s not why I wanted you along! I just enjoy your company and I don’t think I’ve seen you take a day to yourself once. Ever. And I’ve been here almost a year.”

“That’s not how Nobles work. We don’t get days to ourselves.”

“That is probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’d have to agree with you there.”

Nagito rolls his eyes. “If that’s the case, it’s settled.” He grabs Hajime’s hand and half-leads, half-drags him out of the house. Hajime barely has time to grab the Monokuma dagger off of his desk

“Nagito! Nagito, let me go!” He trails after, trying not to get pulled off of his feet as he digs in his heels.

Nagito flashes him a grin over his shoulder. “Nope!” He spins around and keeps Hajime’s hand in a viselike grip as he kisses his neck right where the tree tattoo branches off, just behind the corner of his jaw.

Hajime shivers and jerks away, scratching behind his ear. “Damn it, Nagito!”

“Pretty ticklish there, huh? Come on. Just today. You deserve it, and I know you can spare yourself for one day. Please?”

Hajime sighs and looks back at the front door one more time. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever.”

“Great!” Nagito does a little excited hop. “Come on, let’s go!” He breaks into a run toward the stables.

“Wait up!” Hajime calls, stumbling after him. He belts the dagger to his waist and catches up to his friend. “We’d better not be going to my district. That sounds like hell.”

“No, it’s okay. We’re going to Lord Naegi’s.”

“That…” He blinks. “Actually sounds fun.”

 

When they reach Naegi’s district and leave their horses at an inn, Nagito runs through the streets like an excited child, dragging Hajime along with him. Hajime can feel his face burn red-hot, and it doesn’t fade; this is too public, and he’s in his Noble garb. He tugs anxiously on his sleeve and straightens his belt as Nagito snatches his money and runs into a bakery. The boy sure does love sweets.

“Hinata?” a voice says from behind Hajime as he waits.

He whirls around. “L-Lord Naegi!”

Makoto gives him a wide smile. His uniform is even more elaborate, full of sharp angles and ironed to perfection, mostly gray with small light green swirl patterns on the shoulders, his half-length gray cloak fastened around his throat with an emerald brooch. The cuffs of the sleeves are pulled tight around his wrists, and his pants are tucked neatly into his shin-high, tightly laced black boots. His hair is as just as untidy as ever, though, and he runs a hand through it as he approaches. “Hello!” he says cheerfully. “What are you doing here?” His smile is friendly and genuine.

“I…” Hajime trails off, scratching his neck and looking over his shoulder. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed to take a day off. Makoto isn’t the kind of person who would report him directly to Junko – Hajime suspects Makoto feels the same way about their manipulative superior – but at the same time, Makoto is one of the last people he wants to make a poor impression on.

Nagito finally comes out, chewing on a scone. Hajime steps aside. “My lord, this is Nagito Komaeda, a friend of mine. Nagito, this is Lord Makoto Naegi.”

“Nice to meet you, Nagito!” He looks at Hajime with a laugh. “You? With a friend?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so formal.” He turns and starts down the street, waving. “Well, anyway. It was good to see you, Hinata. Nagito. I was just heading home, but I thought I’d say hi.”

Hajime nods after him and turns to Nagito, who looks slightly confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were such an asshole because you were a Noble, but he’s pretty nice.”

“Hey! I’m not an…Yeah, I’d imagine he just handles stress better. Not all Nobles are like me and Enoshima.”

Nagito hands his money back to him and smiles. “Makes sense. And you are an asshole. But I don’t care.” He cocks his head. “Where next?”

“Huh? You’re running the show here.”

“I don’t have to. It’s your day off. And I’m pretty happy just to be with you, so…”

“You have no idea how cheesy that is.”

Nagito snorts with laughter. “Maybe! But you look uncomfortable.”

“It’s…” Hajime sighs and looks around. He feels uncomfortable. Even with Chiaki, he never made her relationship with her public. As far as both of them were concerned, it would be shameful for him to have an open relationship with a servant. With another male, it’s almost worse. He’s conscious of gaze they catch as they move around, and he flinches every time it looks like anyone is approaching them. But Chiaki got it. He didn’t have to feel guilty, because he knew she knew exactly what was in his mind, and she thought the same, too. Even if Nagito knew what was bothering him, which he probably does, in all honesty, given how good he’s gotten at reading Hajime, he’d probably just try to convince him all of this was okay.

The very thought of Chiaki sends a bolt of discomfort and guilt through his chest that surprises him. Maybe a small part of him just doesn’t want to move on yet. She was everything to him. He knows how he feels about Nagito, but…he can’t just forget about her. Act like she never existed, run around with Nagito like there’s no one else he’s ever loved or will love. Or still loves.

And yet…he doesn’t know. Maybe he just needs to suck it up. Nagito isn’t a servant, so there’s no real problem in that respect.

“I understand if this is too much for you,” Nagito says, his smile gone, as the awkward silence stretches between them.

Hajime hesitates. Just as he thought, Nagito really does know what’s wrong. “Uh…I…I don’t know,” he admits.

“I won’t push you.” Nagito grins again. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not!” Hajime protests quickly. “…Thank you, though.”

“Yeah, no problem. Let’s just have fun. We can do anything you want, and I won’t kiss you or anything unless we’re at home.” He smiles brightly and shrugs.

“Alright.” Hajime gives him a grateful look as they turn to continue down the street. They haven’t gone twenty steps before Hajime can feel the distance stretching palpably between them. He looks over, exhales slowly, and takes Nagito’s hand, looking away and feeling his cheeks flush. Nagito laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo!  
> This definitely wasn't my best chapter. It felt like it got a little dumb at some points. But oh well.  
> Anyway! As always, if there was something you liked or thought I could do better, please let me know in the comments! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> And if you have a song for any pairing or character that you'd like me to write to for my series (Komahina if you don't specify, whoever else you want if you do), I'd love to hear it! Thank you so much!


	19. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> A lot of you probably remember that I named Hajime's younger brother Nagisa in an earlier chapter. I only named him that because it was the first common Japanese name that came to mind. Well, as I was writing this chapter, it occurred to me that Nagisa Shingetsu was a thing. I completely forgot that there was already a character named Nagisa in the Danganronpa franchise. So, I just want to clarify, NAGISA SHINGETSU IS NOT HAJIME'S BROTHER. I've also renamed his brother Yuki, and I went back and edited the earlier chapter as well. I hope that clears up any confusion. Hope you enjoy!

Hajime keeps seeing the Monokuma girl.

She shows up all over the place. Every time he visits his district, when he looks out the window. She even showed up in his stables once, and she just brushed past him as he stood stock still, eyeing her warily.

And every time he sees her, she always checks his waist to make sure he’s wearing the dagger she…gave him.

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with it, though. He wears it, and the little bear symbol on the pommel is always exposed for people to see, but nothing’s happened. He’s joined Monokuma, but so far all that’s meant is that the attempts on his life have stopped, and he doesn’t have to deal with being afraid they might come after Nagito or Chisa.

He looks up at the sky, trying to judge the time. Is it midnight yet? He’s freezing cold. He should’ve prepared better. The dry rustle of fallen leaves beside his feet as he shuffles them is disproportionately harsh in the silence, and he winces, immediately falling still, shoving his numbing fingers deeper into his pockets.

Whatever. It’s too cold for him to wait out here. He turns and leaves the shadows, walking quickly down the street to his parents’ house, and he smiles despite himself. What’s with him lately? He’s been smiling a lot more than he used to. And not the little smirks he used to give in response to others’ idiocy. Real smiles, happy smiles, ones that he can feel reach his eyes as laughter bubbles in his throat. Maybe Nagito really is succeeding. He certainly doesn’t feel like the same person anymore.

A footstep clicks against the cobbled street behind him and he jumps, ripping himself out of his thoughts and looking over his shoulder so fast it hurts his neck, his breaths coming rapidly. If he’s discovered here…

Nagito looks down at his foot, then up at Hajime, and smiles, waving. “Hi!”

Hajime heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s just you.”

“Just me.”

“You followed me?”

“Mhm. I wanted to see where you were going, and I knew you wouldn’t tell me if I asked.”

That’s probably a fair assessment. Hajime’s past the point where this would surprise him anymore. He’s not even mad. “You could’ve brought a coat.” He turns and starts toward his parents’ house again.

Nagito laughs and catches up with him. “Where are we?”

Hajime looks over at him. “Take a guess.”

“Um…” He looks around. “Hey, is this the place where your parents live? It’s pretty similar to what that girl described a while back.”

“First try! Yes, I’m visiting my family. I’m impressed you remembered.”

“Yeah, of course I did.” He smiles. “I didn’t know you were still visiting them.”

“I wasn’t really. I haven’t seen them in months. This is only the second time I’ve gone back to see them.” He starts up the path to the door and Nagito hesitates on the road. “You coming?”

“Huh? Me?”

“No, I’m talking to the tree. Yes, you, dumbass.”   
“You want me to meet your parents?”

“Well, you’re here. You might as well. As long as you don’t blab to the higher-ups about this whole thing my family won’t care much. But…be careful. I don’t really want to make them aware of our…situation.”

“Situation?” Nagito grins and steps forward, grabbing Hajime’s hands and leaning in so their faces are less than an inch apart. “Whatever could you mean?”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.” He hesitates before giving Nagito a quick peck on the forehead. Letting their hands fall away from each other, he turns back to the door. “None of that.”

“Aw, no fair.” Nagito smiles and follows him.

Hajime knocks rapidly, and the door opens. A huge grin spreads across his father’s face as the man ushers him in, but the grin shrinks a little as Nagito follows Hajime in. “Brother!” Yuki squeals in delight and runs forward, tackle-hugging Hajime, who stumbles backward.

He wraps his arms around his brother. “Hi, Yuki. Good to see you again.”

“Hajime…” His mother’s voice is wary and uncertain. He looks up to see her eyeing Nagito up and down, who has a friendly but slightly uneasy expression on his face. He smiles at her awkwardly.

Hajime nods and gestures to Nagito. “No need to worry. This is Nagito. He’s a friend of mine.”

“A friend?”

He rolls his eyes and nods. “Yes, a friend.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Completely,” he says immediately. Nagito gives him a grateful look.

“Why?”

“He…” He looks over at Nagito and blinks. He has no idea why he trusts him so blindly. He can’t explain it. He’s never done anything to prove his trustworthiness, really, besides never telling anyone about him visiting his parents or joining Monokuma, but…he shrugs. At this point it’s not like he can go back, and if it was a bad idea to trust Nagito there’s not really anything he can do about it. “He won’t tell, Mother. I promise.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not good enough.”

Hajime spreads his hands. “It’s going to have to be. I’m the Noble here, remember?” He keeps his tone gentle but he gives her a firm look.

She hesitates and sighs. “Fine. Nice to meet you, Nagito. I’m Takako. This is my husband Watari and Hajime’s younger brother Yuki.”

“Nice to meet you too!” he says brightly. “You’re right to suspect me. It’s true I have no idea why Hajime has any faith in me – I’m sort of the most useless piece of garbage I’ve ever met – but I promise I won’t give anything away. It’s up to you whether or not I’m the kind of person you want to rely on. I understand if you don’t.” He takes a step back. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

Watari glances at Hajime, his eyebrow raised. “Why is he even here?”

Hajime clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to see you. How’s everything going?”

 

Dawn is breaking by the time they finish speaking. To Hajime’s relief, his family actually does gradually include Nagito in their conversations, and he and Yuki roughhouse in the other room while Hajime says his goodbyes to his parents.

His mother brushes his hair back from his forehead and hugs him tightly, and his father claps him on the shoulder. “It was good to see you, son. We miss you desperately. Come back again, okay? But you really should get going. It’ll be daylight by the time you leave at this rate, and we really wouldn’t want that.” His nut brown eyes survey the street outside the window nervously.

Hajime nods. “Hey, Nagito. Let’s go,” he calls.

Nagito appears in the doorway and comes in, Yuki on his heels. Hajime ruffles his brother’s hair affectionately and leads the way out, hurrying away with Nagito beside him. They’re cutting it close.

“Wait! Brother!” Yuki hurtles after him, and Hajime turns around in surprise. Yuki points to the dagger belted at Hajime’s waist. “I know that knife.”

“You…huh?”

“Father has one, too. I found it behind his dresser. He told me I couldn’t tell anyone else, but he said that now that I know I should tell anyone I see with it that he has one too.”

“He…” Hajime and Nagito share a stunned glance. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, kiddo. Does he know I have one?”

“No, should I tell him?”

“Yes, please do. Thanks.” Yuki nods and gives him a quick hug before racing away.

Nagito looks over at Hajime. “Guess it does have a purpose, huh?”

“Guess so. Come on. We don’t have time to stay here. If we’re seen we’re done for.”

Nagito nods and follows him at a steady jog down the road.

 

They run in the door when they get home and dart for Hajime’s room, looking around for Chisa. Hajime chews his lip anxiously. She found out a while ago that he had visited his parents once and she gave him a long, long lecture about how risky it was and how he should forget about ever going there again. If she found them now he’s sure that would be the first thing she’d suspect.

They undress quickly and jump into bed, trying to calm their breathing and relax to make it look like they’re asleep. Nagito slings an arm across Hajime’s waist, and Hajime can feel the other boy’s heartbeat against his back.

Not even five minutes later, the door opens slowly. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Chisa chuckles to herself and the door swings shut again. Hajime pushes himself up on one elbow with a sigh of relief, and Nagito’s arm thumps to the mattress limply. “She’s gone, you don’t have to – ” But when Hajime turns around he realizes Nagito’s already fast asleep, his lips parted slightly, his features soft and relaxed. Hajime settles down again, pulling Nagito’s arm back over his waist. He is pretty tired.

He feels something brush his face and opens his eyes to see the Monokuma assassin standing over him, her eyes behind her mask crinkling up in amusement. He hurriedly pulls the comforter up to his chin, staring at her. “Get out!” he hisses.

“Will do. But first I’ve got a message for you.” She hands him a tiny slip of paper. When he doesn’t reach for it, she just sets it on his forehead and leaves through the door as if she lives here.

Hajime uncertainly flips the paper over. Words are scrawled in messy handwriting across the top. _Inner district. Bring your dagger tomorrow._

Uneasily, he slips the paper under his pillow and looks over his shoulder at Nagito. Looks like their brief respite from danger is over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!   
> As always, thanks for reading! If there was something you liked or you thought I could do better, please tell me! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> Also, I've almost run out of songs for the songfic series. A couple people have requested multiple songs, so I'll likely just write those until I'm out, but I don't have any more requests. If you've been keeping up with the series or you'd just like to see me write a Komahina - or any other pairing or character(s), if you'd like to specify who you want me to write about - fanfic to a song of your choice, I'd love to hear it! Thanks for all your support, you guys!   
> And speaking of the series. Hey, Queenie/Butterfree, my friend, you said you'd like to see a continuation of the most recent song I did for the songfic series? I love doing requests, as you know, so if you've got something specific in mind, let me know! I'll gladly write that for you! Thanks so much! (Of course, no pressure or anything!)


	20. Repose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't feel like writing plotty things so here's some short af dumb fluff

Hajime smiles slightly as Nagito’s lips press against his, welcoming the weight of the other boy as he pins him against his chair, and for a moment he peels his eyes open just to watch as Nagito presses close, eyes closed serenely, his hands cupping Hajime’s face gently, and Hajime sighs softly, brushing Nagito’s hair away from his forehead and running his hand underneath Nagito’s shirt, pulling him closer by his waist. The only sounds are their breathing and the tap-tap-tap of rain against the windowpanes, and Hajime could drown in this silence forever. It’s times like this when he wishes so much it hurts that he wasn’t a Noble, that he could go off to live with his parents and Nagito in a normal house with a more normal life. Where he could wander the streets and not care about Nagito’s affinity for public displays of affection, even welcome it, and he could eat breakfast with Yuki and his mother and father every morning and money would be difficult to come by but they’d be happy anyway…

Which is a dumb fantasy, but right now he doesn’t care. Right now, if he really tries, he can almost imagine that it’s possible.

Nagito’s tongue slides against his own, the taste of lemon and sugar filling his mouth, but just as Hajime tries to tug his head closer to deepen the kiss, Nagito pulls away gently and leans his forehead against Hajime’s. “You have no idea how wonderful you are,” he says, eyes glazed with happiness.

“Mm? I was under the impression I was something of an asshole.”

“Well, you are – ” He squeaks in surprise and laughter as Hajime pinches his side. “You are, but that’s not all you are.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Hm…I don’t know how to describe it. You’re kind, but you try not to show it. You care, but you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t. Or at least, you’ve almost convinced yourself. And…you still have hope.” He nuzzles into Hajime’s neck, and Hajime holds him tightly, absentmindedly rubbing with one index finger at the junction of Nagito’s neck and shoulder. “When so many lesser people have fallen into despair, you still have hope. That might be the most incredible thing about you.”

He closes his eyes and they lapse into comfortable silence. “I hope you’re not expecting a compliment in return,” Hajime says finally.

Nagito chuckles. “No, not from you.”

There’s another brief pause. “But…you’re pretty wonderful, too.”

Nagito smiles and traces the contours of Hajime’s chest with his hand. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Sometimes.”

He laughs. “There it is. What about now? Am I wonderful right now?”

“Unbelievably so.” Nagito is so warm against him, soft and solid at the same time, his nose and lips just brushing Hajime’s neck. He can feel the scars from the Monokuma assassin beneath his hands, but they don’t repulse him. Now they’re just another part of what makes Nagito, Nagito.

A loud rumble fills the room, and Hajime’s ears burn red as he realizes it was his stomach. He glances down, his eyes narrowed, and Nagito pulls back and laughs at his betrayed expression. “Come on,” he says, climbing to his feet and taking Hajime’s hand, pulling him gently out of his chair and out of the room. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“Yeah.”

He’s so grateful for today. Last night was probably the most stressful ordeal he’s been through in weeks. Going to the Monokuma assembly in Noble garb was a bad idea; he almost thought he wouldn’t even make it out of the assembly with all of those people coming up to him and thanking him. When he was asked to say something…well, he’s never been a public speaker. He almost puked on the spot, and he didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until Nagito asked him if he was okay. It was more social interaction than he’s quite possibly ever experienced.

Nagito has a real knack for reading Hajime, and he must have picked up on all of his residual tension, because he seems to be devoting himself almost entirely today to calming Hajime down. For once, Hajime truly doesn’t care that he’s not being productive at all.

He leans against the counter in the kitchen as Nagito rifles through the pantry. “There is no snack food in this house.”

“Why not have someone make us something?”

“You fired Teruteru, though…and whoever is making food now is good, but not nearly as good as Teruteru was.”

“Teruteru also possibly tried to poison me.”

“Unfortunately.” Nagito stares into the shadows of the pantry. “I wonder why he’d do that.”

“I don’t think he ever really liked me.”

“No…but I don’t think he wanted to kill you. You’ve got to wonder what they said to him to make him agree to try.”

“…I don’t know. Nothing appetizing in there, though?”

“Not really.” He turns to Hajime. “We could drop by Junko’s district and get something there.”

“Junko’s?” He shakes his head fervently. “No way. We can go to Naegi’s, though, if you want to.”

“Sure!” He turns and pauses before walking over to stand in front of Hajime, softly cupping his cheek and rubbing the corner of his cheekbone with a tender thumb. He looks Hajime up and down, his eyes thoughtful, pensive. Hajime feels almost transparent, like Nagito can see everything within him, right through him, to the polished granite counter behind him. Finally, Nagito locks eyes with him, mouth set into a solemn line. “I think I love you.”

Hajime exhales softly, letting a smile spread across his face, and he hugs Nagito to him. “I think I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola!   
> As always, if there was something you liked or thought I could've done better, please let me know! And if you have a song you want me to write to for any character(s) or pairing, I'd love to hear it! Thanks!


	21. Warmth

Hajime watches, panting, his sword’s tip buried in the dry dirt at his feet, as Peko hoists her own and widens her stance. A bead of sweat rolls down her temple, but that’s her only indication of fatigue as she launches herself at him again, hacking viciously at his torso as he hurriedly picks up his blade to block. It’s like a lead weight in his arms. “Holy shit, Peko!”

“If you train under the impression that your opponent isn’t trying to kill you, that’s how you’re going to fight.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“Stop whining. I haven’t taught you in too long. You’re getting soft.”

He dodges her slice at his chest but he feels a flash of pain in his shoulder and looks down in astonishment. It’s a deep cut. _She got me!_

“Never look away from your opponent.” She darts in and sweeps him off of his feet with her leg.

He thuds to the dust with a grunt, and she stabs the ground beside him. “Weak.”

“You’re not exactly pulling any punches. You’ve never been this rough.”

She sighs. “No…your butler has made me aware of your…situation.”

“Situation?” he asks, his thoughts immediately jumping to Nagito. That’s the word they always use to describe their relationship when they’re afraid someone can hear them or they don’t want to classify what they are. “What the hell does that have to do with it?”

She frowns at him. “You know very well what. We’re planning a rebellion.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“‘Oh?’” Her scarlet eyes are cold as ice.

“I just…thought you were talking about something else.” He pauses. “Wait…‘we’re’ planning a rebellion? You mean…you…?”

“Of course.” She reaches for her collar and turns part of it inside out to reveal a faint silver marking, shaped vaguely like a bear, with a brighter silver slash in place of its left eye. “Now I think it would be in your best interest if we continued sparring.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He climbs to his feet and stares at her. “Why?”

She pauses and nods. “I suppose I should tell you. I am not an idiot, my lord. I know that the way we live is not ideal. I know that there must be other ways to run our country than how it is right now. And I know that there is no way our king and many of the people in power across the country right now will relinquish their power without violence. You are an exception, of course, as are Lady Mioda, Lord Kuzuryuu, Lord Tanaka, and Lady Koizumi. But this place is an exception. We are farthest from the king’s reach, and we have a smaller population than most cities, so our Nobles are a bit less power hungry. And yet they suffer under the same financial and political pressure as Nobles that are a bit better off. Most aren’t happy about it. Monokuma’s influence is growing, and it is becoming more and more likely they will win. As you know, I am a vassal of my lord Kuzuryuu, and he is prone to picking the side he thinks is most likely to win. Where he goes, I go, so of course, when he shared with me his intention to become a part of Monokuma, I immediately decided to take part as well. I must say I am pleased that you made the same decision. But now, I have told you why I am a part of the rebel movement. I believe you owe me the same courtesy, Lord Hinata.”

He clears his throat. “Yes…” Mioda, Kuzuryuu, Tanaka, and Koizumi are all Monokuma? They joined regardless of the consequences they might suffer from Junko and possibly even her superiors. He clenches his fist around the hilt of his sword. It’s no news to him that he’s a coward, but that doesn’t mean the affirmation makes him feel any less awful. He only joined because… “I was stalked by a Monokuma assassin for months. She almost killed me a few times. I’ve told you this.”

She nods. “But I did not know she was Monokuma.”

“She eventually got tired of it. She failed too many times. I have no doubt she would’ve killed me or gotten me to join at some point, but she was impatient. I woke up one night and she’d tied me to my bed and she’d dragged…my friend, who you’ve met, I believe, into my room. She tortured him in front of me until I gave in.”

She blinks. “With all due respect, my lord, I’ve never known you to be the kind of person to make any sort of concession on the part of another person. Except, perhaps, for Miss Nanami.”

“Do I really seem that heartless to you?”

“Not heartless. I believe dispassionate would be the better word for it.”

“…I can’t deny that.”

She eyes him meditatively. “If he has earned the same respect from you as you held for Miss Nanami, I can only imagine what kind of person he is. He must be special.”

“He’s definitely something.” He looks back at the manor, and when he looks back at Peko, her eyes gleam with amusement. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Has he also joined?”

“He has.”

“Is he proficient at swordplay?”

“I dunno, I’ve never seen him fight.”

“So it’s safe to assume that the only instruction he’s ever received was the brief lesson I gave him a while ago?”

He forgot about that. “Yes.”

“I’d like to tutor him as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“Of course.”

She nods in satisfaction and scrapes her foot back through the dirt. “Alright. One more match and you should go bring him out here.”

“Okay, I will.” He winces as he takes his stance and it aggravates the gash on his shoulder, but she’s attacking him with renewed vigor before he even has time to complain.

He does significantly better this time, despite the red stain spreading around the tear in his clothing, and they’re both sweating and gasping for breath by the time they finally break apart, having reached a silent agreement that they’re both too exhausted to keep fighting each other.

“Well done,” she says, with one of her rare, small smiles. She sucks in a long breath and straightens, pulling her shoulders back and shaking off her weariness. “Now for your friend. What is his name again?”

“Nagito Komaeda.”

“And how should I call him?”

“Just Nagito would probably be fine. Or Komaeda if you must. But I can let him tell you his preference.”

She nods once and he turns away, hurrying toward the door. He pulls it open and goes in, looking around. “Hey, Nagito!”

No answer.

He makes his way to Nagito’s room and opens the door. He’s not there. Hajime frowns and pauses. A tiny smile turns the corner of his mouth up and he goes to his own room. Sure enough, Nagito’s curled up under the covers, his hair falling across his face and in his eyes, a small trail of drool streaming from the corner of his mouth. Hajime sits down beside him and pokes him gently in the forehead. “Hey. It’s the middle of the day. Wake up.”

Nagito makes a little sleepy groan and clutches Hajime’s pillow against his face. Hajime rolls his eyes fondly and pulls it away, shaking Nagito’s shoulder until the boy blinks his eyes open, vulnerability sparkling in their depths for a heartbeat before he remembers where he is, and he sits up, rubbing his eyes. “’Morning.”

“Morning? It’s after lunch.”

“Huh? It is?”

“You’re stupid.”

“Not as stupid as your face.”

“Ha, ha. Great comeback.”

Nagito rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around Hajime’s neck, tugging him downwards. “C’mon, I’m sleepy. If you have time you should stay here.”

Hajime’s so tempted to give in. He’s sore and tired from his lesson with Peko. But his throbbing shoulder reminds him that he should probably do something about it, and Nagito can’t stay here anyway. “Not now. Peko wants to give you a lesson.”

“Peko? As in…your swordplay tutor?”

“That’s the one.”

“You’re not just tossing me into a lesson again?”

“No, she specifically asked me to get you.”

“Huh. Okay!”

Hajime sits there and watches him stand and dress himself, admiring the sharp contours of his hips and the way the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his shirt on. He reaches out a hand and presses his palm right into the middle of Nagito’s back, marveling at his solidity and corporeality. Sometimes, like now, when shafts of soft evening light curve around his half naked form and make his skin look like cream, and the shadows stretching across his body are deep and endless, it’s hard for Hajime to believe that Nagito is even there. Nagito looks back at him in surprise at his touch, and then he closes his eyes, a soft smile ghosting across his lips. They stay like that for a moment, and then, reluctantly, Hajime lets his hand fall. “You should get going,” he says in a low voice.

Nagito nods, and without another word or glance he finishes dressing and leaves the room.

Hajime flops backward across the bed and stares at the ceiling.

His life sucks, but sometimes he just feels so damn lucky to live it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!  
> I haven't been able to update as frequently lately, sorry about that. My life's gotten pretty hectic and my creativity is currently in a downward spiral, not to mention I'm so busy prepping for NaNoWriMo that I hardly have time for anything else. But I found some time to write this, so I hope you enjoy it! It's not that great, but none of my work really is, and I'm struggling to find ways to advance the plot when all I want to do is write Komahina fluff...but enough with the excuses!  
> If there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, don't hesitate to tell me! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> Also, if you have a song you'd like me to write for any character(s) or pairing(s) in Dangan Ronpa or Super Dangan Ronpa 2, I'm in dire need for requests!  
> Speaking of requests...I was thinking. Since I don't have any idea how to advance this story at the moment, I figured, you know, fuck it, why don't I let you guys have a say? So even if it's just something fluffy or something you'd like to see in the main storyline, I'd love to hear it! (I'm low-key begging you lmao) Please tell me, there's a very good chance I'll use almost anything you tell me you want to see! I've been unsure whether I wanted to continue this, because I'm so busy, but I've kept going because of you, so why not let you make requests? Tell me if you've got anything!   
> Thanks for reading!


	22. Danger

Hajime’s boots make resounding thuds on the cobblestones as he hurtles through the marketplace, shoving people aside in his haste. Behind him he can hear the cries of the soldiers as they follow hot on his heels.

 

_His father hugged him tightly. “Come back again, okay? But not too soon. You’ve been coming too frequently, I’m worried someone will notice.”_

_He nodded. “I will. I know. But…since Yuki told me you…” He shot a glance at his mother. “You know…it’s been sort of reassuring interacting with someone else. Peko doesn’t count; I think she enjoys beating the shit out of me every time she comes over.”_

_“I know. But be careful. Please. If anyone ever found out about this, we’d all be done for. Including you.”_

_Hajime nodded and leaned over, giving Yuki a fleeting kiss on the top of his head before making his way toward the front door._

“Lord Hinata! Stop!”

Do they think he’s stupid? He _saw_ Junko Enoshima’s insignia on their uniforms. They have archers shooting at him. He can hear the hiss of metal on metal as they draw their swords, their footsteps growing closer and closer. And they think “stop” is going to make him give in?

A rotund shopkeeper throws his arm out to try to intercept Hajime’s flight, but he ducks under it hurriedly, stumbling along. The buildings grow steadily fancier and more expensive as he sprints along, his lungs and legs screaming at him to slow down, to take a breath. He can’t. It would be the last breath he ever took.

 

_He slipped out and rushed down the street, his arms crossed tightly over his chest with anxiety. His father was right. He’d been coming too often, he’d been careless, but he was woefully uninformed of the way Monokuma worked, and he needed help. Even with the periodic meetings in a huge abandoned horse race stadium in his district, he still wasn’t sure what the hell he’d gotten himself into by joining._

_The crunch of footsteps behind him made him jump. His eyes wide and terrified, he whirled around to see a young man, his lip caught between his teeth, every muscle tensed, staring at Hajime. He was dressed in red and gray, Junko’s swirling bear-like crest embroidered across his chest and arms. The two locked eyes, and after a heartbeat that seemed to last an eternity, furious yells erupted from behind a huge house at the end of the street. A small unit of men and women dressed the same as the boy swarmed out onto the road with cries of “You_ idiot!”

_A tall, stern-looking woman turned to face Hajime, advancing quickly. “Lord Hajime Hinata. You are under arrest.”_

_Without even a thought, Hajime whipped around and charged away._

Almost there…he grits his teeth against the pain and pushes himself faster, drawing away from the soldiers again. He doesn’t know what good it’ll do him to make it home – they could easily follow him inside, not to mention find Nagito and hold him responsible as well – but it’s not as if he has anywhere else to go. He may be part of Monokuma, but he knows that the people of his own district still harbor far too much dislike for him to be willing to help him fend off the highest Noble’s men, and it’s not like it’s any secret where his manor is; they could and would just go there later anyway.

He breaks onto the path up to his front door with only a couple of yards to spare, and he throws himself inside when he gets there, leaning back against the door with all of his weight. “Chisa!” he yells. “Chisa!” She runs in, he hair tied back tightly, a wet rag still dripping in her hand. “Help me!” She runs forward and locks the door, leaning against it with him. It rattles behind them.

“How many?” she asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know! A dozen, maybe? Not counting the archers.”

Her eyes widen with fear. “I won’t ask.”

Nagito appears at the top of the stairwell, alarm written plainly across his face. Hajime looks over at Chisa, and they both shove away from the door and bound upward. Hajime seizes Nagito’s arm and they all dart around the corner, pounding down the hall to the servants’ rooms just as the door crashes open downstairs and the shouts of the men and women fill the house.

Hajime, Nagito, and Chisa burst into Chisa’s room, and she urgently slides her bookshelf to the side, with the boys’ help, and yanks open the cupboard door behind it. It’s a tiny crawl space, but…she grabs Hajime’s shirt and shoves him in, stuffing Nagito in after him as he curls up in the very back, his joints aching at the bizarre position he’s forced to hold himself in. As the cupboard slams shut and the bookshelf scrapes against the door again, the voices from the hallway drawing ever closer, he heaves a deep breath, followed by another, and another. “God…fucking…damn it!”

“Shush!” Nagito says, his elbow catching Hajime in the stomach. “They’ll hear you!”

Hajime obediently falls silent.   
“They saw you?” Nagito asks in a barely audible whisper.

“I think they already knew I was going to be there. They were waiting for me and probably would’ve ambushed me if some idiot rookie hadn’t accidentally made a sound.”

“Are your family okay?”

“I don’t know. As far as I saw, all of the soldiers followed me. If they’re smart they’ll have run by now.”

“How could you let them know you were there? The soldiers, I mean.”

“I thought I was being careful. I’ve been really quiet and I’ve only even left my hiding spot when I was absolutely sure there was no one else on the street.”

Nagito sighs, and Hajime can feel it against his forearm. They’re way too squished together. “I hope they’re – ”

A piercing scream, no less blood-chilling for bookcase and door between them and the sound, rips through the tiny cupboard, and they both stiffen. “Chisa!” Hajime yells. There’s another scream, and he yells again, louder. Nagito tries to cover Hajime’s mouth with his hand, but Hajime yanks backwards out of reach, his head cracking against the wall. He grunts in pain, and Nagito somehow manages to surge forward so that he’s on top of Hajime, covering his mouth with both hands.

“They’ll find us!” Nagito hisses.

Hajime bucks underneath him.

“We can’t do anything if we get caught. Be patient. If they leave maybe she or one of the other servants will get us out of here.”

Hajime reluctantly relaxes, and Nagito breathes a sigh of relief, removing his hands.

There’s a loud crash from outside, a yelp of pain, and silence, then the thumping of footsteps out of the room and away.

There are several heart-pounding minutes, where Nagito and Hajime unwittingly press closer to each other, the silence almost deafening. Hajime grabs Nagito’s hand and squeezes tightly. Finally, finally, they hear the bookshelf groan as it’s pushed sideways along the wall, and the cupboard door is pulled open, light pouring into the tiny space. Nagito and Hajime practically explode out into the room, and Chisa smiles shakily at them, brushing her hair nervously out of her eyes. Hajime seizes her arms and begins patting her down frantically, checking his hand for blood. “What did they do to you? Are you hurt? What happened?”

She gently pushes him back. “With all due respect, my lord, I can take care of myself.” She smiles and then looks away. “They didn’t hurt me. But they made me scream to try to lure you out of wherever you were. I thought you’d have the sensibility to stay quiet, so I did, but when you yelled my name your voice was faint enough that they thought you must be outside.”

He and Nagito both let out a long, slow exhale of relief.

“They’re searching for you, my lord. I don’t know what you did, but they’ll be back. You can’t stay here.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere else. Somewhere friendly.”

“I have literally never been friendly with anyone in my life, not counting Nagito.”

“I don’t know, my lord,” Chisa repeats. “But, to put it lightly, you’re in a difficult situation. You’re going to have to hide. You know that. You can’t hide in my cupboard every time someone comes looking. What if something happened to me? You’d never get out. You’d be stuck in there until the day you died.”

“It’s not like I have anywhere else, Chisa. I’ll find somewhere else in the house to take shelter when they come by.”

“You’re putting Nagito in danger by staying here.”

He freezes.

“You have to leave, Lord Hinata.”

Hajime looks over at Nagito. “Alright. Tomorrow morning. I’ll leave. I’ll try to see if Lady Mioda will let me stay with her. She might not take me in, but she’ll definitely keep a secret.”

Chisa nods. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> An oddly paced chapter, I know...definitely not my best work. But hey! It's plot! We haven't seen that for, like, three chapters!  
> Before I get into my usual spiel, I have an announcement! All of my works will likely be on hiatus - or, at least, I'll be updating them far less frequently - for the month of November. National Novel Writing Month! And as much as I'd love to do something Komahina for my NaNoWriMo novel this year, I've already got something in mind, and I told myself I wouldn't do fanfiction this time around.   
> If any of you guys are thinking of doing NaNoWriMo and you've made your account and everything, shoot me a buddy request! My username is jaegerbombastic336.   
> Now! Onto stuff about the chapter!  
> If there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, please let me know! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> And if you've got a song you'd like me to do for any character(s)/pairing(s) in SDR2 or DR, I'd love to hear it!   
> (P.S. If you're curious about NaNoWriMo, you can check it out at nanowrimo.org)


	23. Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!   
> So I tried NaNoWriMo for twelve days and realized that I was missing this story a lot. I wanted more Komahina and I wasn't nearly as passionate about the story I was writing as I am about all of the work I do on here. So I rearranged my priorities a little bit. You can expect more regular updates of No Replacements from now on because I can't bring myself to leave this until after November is over. Hope you enjoy!

Hajime pulls his hood as far as it’ll go over his head, the wind trying in vain to tug it out from between his fingertips. The drab green of the fabric keeps him relatively camouflaged against the forest landscape behind him, but he still feels exposed. Lady Mioda’s manor sits in a fairly secluded corner of the city outskirts, but he can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching him, someone who may or may not mean well. Shuddering, he walks briskly up the path and ducks inside. “My lady!” he calls. “I’m back!”

There’s an excited squeal that seems to come from everywhere at once – he’s suggested to her already that she do something to improve the acoustics in her entrance hall, but she said she liked the echo – and a mane of black hair whirls out from a doorway to his left, the young lady’s eyes wide and excited. “Hajime!” she greets him, almost knocking him over in a wild tackle-hug. “You took so looooong! Ibuki thought you were never coming back!” She pushes away from him abruptly as he tries to calm his racing heart, relaxing his almost painfully stiff muscles one by one. “What’d you get? What’d you get?” she asks eagerly, spotting the small bag in his hand.

He looks down at it and feels his cheeks grow pink. “Nothing important,” he mutters gruffly.

“Awwww! That just makes Ibuki even more curious,” she whines, taking his hand and leading him through the hall and up the stairs. When he tries to pull away, he discovers her grip is surprisingly strong. “Tell me, tell me!”

“Lady Mioda – ”

“Ibuki,” she corrects him, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Lady Mioda, I am grateful that you took me in like you did, but that does not mean I need to tell you everything. I thought we agreed on that.”

“Oh, no!” She shakes her head earnestly. “Ibuki isn’t going to ask why you’re here or anything. I’m just dying to know.”

“No,” he says firmly. “This is private. I am sorry.”

She huffs, looking sad only for a heartbeat before she quite literally springs up again. “Oh! I forgot! Ibuki has something she needs to do! See you later, Hajime!” she calls, already almost out of sight around the far corner.

Hajime watches her go. She’s certainly an interesting one. A bit too friendly for his taste, but she’s agreed to keep his presence here a secret, so he supposes he can’t really complain.

He doesn’t mind being here. The room she’s given him has a balcony, which he probably shouldn’t use but it’s nice when he’s feeling suffocated by all of the worry and stress that he’s pretty sure is burning ulcers into the walls of his stomach. Hardly a minute goes by that he doesn’t think about Chisa or Nagito. He wanted them to come, but Chisa insisted it would be even more suspicious if everyone left. As long as she and Nagito remain at Hajime’s manor, they can feign ignorance and keep Junko’s soldiers off of his tail. He’s terrified something will happen to them, though. It’s made no easier by the fact that every time Ibuki touches him all he can think of is holding hands with Nagito, hugging him, kissing him, touching him, loving him, and all Hajime wants is for Ibuki to let him go so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore.

He retreats into his bedroom and locks the door. He carries his bag with him out onto the balcony and pushes his hood back away from his face, closing his eyes against the brush of the wind. It’s peaceful. The rustle of the trees calms him a bit.

Opening his eyes again, he reaches into the bag and pulls out a glittering bottle of whiskey. He hasn’t had any alcohol since Chisa threw it all out shortly after Chiaki’s death, but this morning, after he woke up screaming, crying, drenched in sweat and hyperventilating, all he could think was how much he needed a drink. He’s sure Ibuki wouldn’t mind, but somehow this just feels too private. He wants to keep his vulnerability to himself as long as he possibly can.

He exhales slowly. “Nagito,” he breathes. The sky is the same shade of grey as Nagito’s eyes. He lets his gaze linger on it for a long moment. He didn’t bring a glass from the kitchen like he’d originally planned, but he just shrugs and opens the bottle.

As the first few gulps wash down his throat with a vicious burning sensation, he’s suddenly grateful that his city doesn’t impose age restrictions on drinking like many others do. But he needs a glass. It might help him slow himself down a little, at the very least. He sneaks back into the hallway, racing to the kitchen. Ibuki’s chef gives him a small nod as he snatches a glass from a cupboard and hurries back out. A tiny patch of blue sky is peeping out from between the clouds now. He fills the glass and leans against the railing.

Maybe it’s not just worry that’s making him feel like this. There’s something else, some underlying emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s not fear, and it’s definitely not anything positive. It’s more like a yearning, tugging at his heart and making him almost want to cry.

Ah, that’s it. He gulps down his whiskey and winces. He misses Nagito. He misses him a lot.

He’s been here for three months. No news. No nothing. Clearly, he hasn’t gotten used to anything either. He misses Nagito so badly he thinks it’s killing him. That might be a little dramatic, but he doesn’t give a damn. That’s sure what it feels like.

Maybe he’s more of a softie than he ever realized.

He fills his glass and leans over the railing again, letting it dig into his gut. He can’t help but let out a sigh. Already he can feel his senses dulling, his mind wandering, his inhibitions vanishing.

From inside, he can hear the sounds of doors opening and closing, voices speaking in hushed whispers, but he doesn’t heed them. This was a bad idea. He just feels worse now. He contemplates the glass in his hand thoughtfully, extends his arm out over the drop in front of him, and lets go. Distantly, he can hear the sound of glass shattering on the ground below, but he doesn’t care. Ibuki’s rich. She can just buy another if she needs him. The grass is bathed in light golden liquid, weighing it down against the wind, and as he watches, he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He jumps in surprise with a loud yelp. “What the fuck, Mioda? Let me – ” He hears a quiet laugh from behind him, and a cheek presses against his shoulder, hair tickling the back of his neck. His jaw falls open in astonishment. “Nagi – ”

“Hi,” Nagito murmurs.

Hajime turns his head slowly, as if afraid that if he looks too fast Nagito will disappear. Nagito rests his chin on Hajime’s shoulder, a small smile on his lips. They simply stare at each other for a long, long moment, and then Hajime whirls around, seizing Nagito’s arms in a vise-like grip and kissing him hard. Nagito laughs in surprise, but Hajime’s ferocity quickly silences him. The familiar taste of lemon dances on Hajime’s tongue, and he presses close to Nagito, their teeth clicking every once in a while in their desperation to get closer to one another. As they stumble toward Hajime’s bed and Nagito straddles his waist, tongues warring in each other’s mouths, Hajime finally pulls away and smiles up at Nagito. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, I miss you, too.”

“Miss me? Not past tense?”

Nagito smiles sadly at him.

 

Hajime jolts awake, staring at the ceiling in dismay. “Not past tense,” he breathes. Turning over, he buries his face in his pillow, ignoring Ibuki’s chatter with one of the maids that he can hear out in the hallway. It must be around noon, judging by the light. He’s not sure if he can handle this much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!  
> As always, if there was something you liked or thought I could've done better, let me know!   
> Song requests are still open, too. Someone requested one before my brief hiatus, and while I don't remember your username at the moment, don't worry! I'm getting to that, I'm just trying to think of a good idea. I'll have that out hopefully by the end of the week. Any songs from anyone else would be awesome, too! Thanks for reading!


	24. Recurrence

Fuck this. He’s _not_ going to do this anymore. Hajime rolls out of bed and dresses, running a hand through his hair as he walks out of the room. Down the hall, Ibuki spots him. “Hajime!” she greets him brightly, running over to him.

She’s the strangest Noble he’s ever met, he’s certain of it. Most female Nobles wear short, loose dresses or skirts, keeping their hair up in ponytails or buns or cut short, intent on keeping up appearances of dignity, pride, and strength. His mother always almost seemed to glide across the ground when she walked, back straight, shoulders back, her black and purple uniform contrasting starkly with her pale skin. But Ibuki…she’s probably the exact opposite of every lady he’s ever met. Her long, shaggy black hair stretches to her waist, and she lets it, often dying parts of it bright colors; right now it’s streaked with pink, blue and white. She insists on wearing pants, and he’s fairly certain that the vivid rose-colored uniform she always wears was always meant to be a male one. She never seems to care what others think of her, and instead of calm, she always seems to almost exude joy and excitement. He’s grown rather fond of her since he arrived here, as crazy as she does make him. She reminds him, just barely, of Nagito. He has a lot of respect for her, and he owes her a lot for letting him stay here in secret.

She hops up and does a little twirl. “You stayed in your room for so long!” She pokes him gently in the chest. “What were you doing in there? There’s no way you were asleep until now! You went to bed before the sun even went down last night!” She mimes drinking something with her hand and winks twice at him, grinning wickedly.

“I was asleep!” he says defensively. “And I was not drunk! You don’t have any alcohol!”

“Sure, sure.” She smiles.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

She cackles. “You should go with Ibuki into town today! I want some new clothes! And Ibuki gave allllll her servants the whole week off, so she’s going to be lonely if you don’t come with her.” She bats her eyelashes, clearly trying to look cute.

He rolls his eyes. “Sure. I was actually coming out to offer help or whatever you needed, so absolutely.”

She makes a little squeak of excitement as she throws her arms in the air and prances around in a circle. “Yay!”

“Now?”

“Yep yep! Come on!” She grabs his wrist and half-leads, half-drags him downstairs.

“Hey! Wait!” She stops and looks at him quizzically. “That cloak?” he prompts. “They’re going to know it’s me if I don’t wear it.”

“Ohhhhh, right!” She snaps her fingers. “Ibuki totally forgot! Go get it!”

He obediently goes back to his room to grab the cloak and he swings it over his shoulders, fastening it at his throat with the modest brooch she’s given him as he returns to her. “Alright, I'm ready.”

She nods eagerly and bursts out the door, running across the windswept grass with her hands held out behind her. She scampers in a couple of full circles and eventually makes it to the stable, Hajime following much more slowly. He tugs his hood over his head.

 

The ride into the city is uneventful, but they avoid striking up any sort of conversation to avoid Hajime’s voice being overheard. He doubts anyone would even recognize it, but better safe than sorry. He follows her from store to store, a little jealous that her district is so much wealthier than his is. It’s nice, the buildings all well kept, and many of her constituents even have gardens and yards filled with flowers and homegrown vegetables. She only buys a few things – it’s not as if they brought a pack pony with them or anything – but it still seems to take hours as they wander the streets. The people here seem fond of Ibuki, and they don’t question his presence, even though he’s sure he must look exceedingly shady with his dark greenish-grey cloak and black gloves.

As they get closer to the inside border of her district, though, a hush falls over the city, the hum of activity fading out into silence. They skirt around a huge crowd as they head to one of Ibuki’s favorite places. He stops short, earning a confused look from her. “What’s going on?” he asks quietly.

She shrugs. “Sometimes it gets like this when prisoners on death row are being executed. Now come on! This is the last store, Ibuki promises.”

He nods. “Just one second. I want to see who it is.”

She groans, letting out an exaggerated huff, but she doesn’t try to stop him as he slowly pushes his way through the crowd. When they notice him, they begin to part, making a sort of aisle for him to squeeze through. He nods at them as thanks, careful not to let them see his face. The gallows rise above his head, long shadows from behind the prisoners thrown across the ground by the setting sun, and he looks up.

Immediately, he freezes, his blood turning to ice in his veins.

“Let go of me!” Yuki shrieks, trying in vein to rip his wrists out of a guard’s hands, while Takako and Watari stand on either side of him, their gazes downturned, jaws set in determination, although Takako’s shoulders twitch every so often, her son’s screams breaking down her resolute façade for a split second. Hajime can feel his hands shaking, and he just barely has the presence of mind to keep his hood from falling off. The small boy writhes furiously, and the guard slips a tiny, low-hanging noose over his head, followed by a woven sack.

“No…” Hajime’s breath rattles in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears.

“Help me!” Yuki screeches. “Brother! Hajime!”

Hajime snaps. He rips his Monokuma dagger from its sheath at his waist and surges up the steps, his the wood making muffled thumps beneath his feet, and just as the guard notices him, he lunges forward, burying the dagger in the guard’s stomach up to the hilt. The guard makes a choking sound, and Hajime shifts his fingers as hot blood gushes over his fingers in the lull of shock that envelopes the entire crowd. All of them are holding their breath, and he looks down at them as he realizes his hood has fallen back. He grits his teeth. “Shit!” His parents are the first to leap into action. They launch themselves down to the ground, and even though they stumble with their hands behind their backs, they climb to their feet rapidly and take off. Hajime sweeps Yuki into his arms and flies after them just as the soldiers stationed around the perimeter of the square recover their wits. “It’s Lord Hinata!” someone yells.

“Put me down!” Yuki demands, almost squirming out of Hajime’s arms, the bag still over his head.

Hajime can’t spot Ibuki anywhere. Smart girl. It’s probably best if she doesn’t show her face right now. “Be quiet!” he hisses. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Broth – ”

“Yes, it’s me.” He looks behind over his shoulder. The guards are still fighting their way through the crowd. Hajime throws himself into a narrow back alley and plunges into a pile of garbage. Yuki makes a little discontented noise, but Hajime shushes him, burrowing beneath it all until he’s certain it’s not completely obvious that they’re here. “Be still,” he whispers, and Yuki nods almost imperceptibly.

The soldiers run by, yelling to each other, and one pauses to glance down the alley before charging after his comrades. Hajime waits until the noise fades into the distance before sitting up, wrinkling his nose at all of the slime and garbage clinging to his clothes and his skin. Yuki sits up, too, and Hajime tugs the bag off of his head, using the dagger to saw through the boy’s restraints on his wrists.

“Are you okay?” Hajime asks.

“Mhm.” Yuki looks up at him with wide eyes. “You came back. Mother and Father said you wouldn’t. They said you were smarter than that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not smarter than that. Come on.” He pulls Yuki up to his feet and stands beside him. “We need to find somewhere safe,” he says. “I don’t think we can go back to Lady Mioda’s but I also don’t think she’ll tell, so we can try as long as we’re not seen.”

“What about…?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. They can take care of themselves. We’ll see them again, okay?” Hajime attempts a smile, and his brother nods back at him, bucking up immediately and marching on ahead.

_Just like he’s been conditioned to do,_ Hajime thinks bitterly, and he looks down at the bloodstained pommel of his Monokuma dagger as he follows his little brother. Someday, he’ll make a world his brother can be happy in. He closes his fist around the hilt and closes his eyes. “I promise,” he murmurs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> As always, if there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, let me know! Hang in there, guys, Nugget will be back soon, I promise!  
> I am in dire need of songs for my songfic series! If you want me to write any pairing(s)/character(s) to any song you desire, tell me! I'll be more than happy to do it! And that goes for anyone who might have already suggested something in the past, as well!  
> I love you guys! Thanks for reading!


	25. Dismay

Hajime keeps his cloak taut between his hands over both his and Yuki’s heads as they stumble toward the distant city. They haven’t spoken for hours, simply suffering beneath the deluge and shivering so hard Hajime’s sure anyone within a ten-foot radius could hear their teeth chattering. Yuki winces every time his foot hits the ground, and Hajime just wants to pick him up and carry him, but with the current state of his arms, sore from stretching the fabric above his head for so long, and the unfortunate fact that they would have to surrender their meager shelter from the rain if he helped his brother, it’s not really a viable option at this point.

He has no idea why he thinks fleeing to a different city will give them any sort of protection. By the time they get there, Junko and the Intendant will have informed the king that they have a fugitive Noble and his little brother running around somewhere, and the king will have probably gotten word to as many cities as possible. Given their proximity to the capital, their prospective refuge will probably be the first to know.

Still…in a place where not everyone knows his face, maybe they can find somewhere to hide out.

He’s glad he’s not staying with Ibuki anymore. His presence jeopardized her status and safety, and Junko’s men won’t give up so easily now that he’s committed a second atrocity against the government. She was gone when he returned to her manor, having done the smart thing and disappeared for a while, and he knew that he was no longer welcome at her place. So here they are, growing ever closer to what could be their doom. If the city has already been notified, they won’t even make it past the guards posted around the outskirts.

Yuki shivers particularly violently and grabs a fistful of Hajime’s shirt. Hajime sighs and slows down for the freezing boy, frustrated at having to decrease what was already a snail’s pace. “Almost there,” he says.

Yuki nods silently, probably too tired and cold to speak.

Hajime looks up at the sky. The sun has probably already set, and now the world around them darkens, making it difficult to see the outlines of the clouds and their surroundings. Ahead, the glinting city lights blur like bleeding paint behind sheets of rain.

The tall grass to their right rustles quietly, and they both freeze, Hajime’s hand going immediately to the hilt of the Monokuma dagger belted at his side. “Hello?” he calls.

A pale face peeks out from the grass, and in the dim light Hajime can just make it out as a boy’s, about his age, dark hair hanging to his chin, dark eyes suspicious and almost fearful. “Who are you?” the boy demands.

“Who’s asking?”

“I can’t tell you unless you tell me who you are.”

“Then I guess we’ll both have to live with not knowing.”

“I have thirteen archers behind me. If you don’t tell me your name they _will_ shoot.”

Hajime’s eyes widen. If it were just him, he’d probably take the risk of assuming the guy was bluffing and keep refusing to tell, but…he looks down at his brother, who’s now pressing himself against Hajime’s legs and waist in a vain attempt to conserve warmth. Sighing, he looks up again. “Hajime Hinata. Now tell me yours.”

“Hajime Hinata?” He looks slightly to the side and nods, some voice that Hajime can’t hear over the rain speaking quietly to the boy. “The Noble?”

“Possibly.”

The boy’s eyes harden, and Hajime braces himself for the inevitable. “Show me your dagger.”

“Huh?” Hajime blinks, surprised.

“My comrade here says you’ve broken the law in your home and are probably fleeing to Towa. That’s pretty neat. But show me your dagger.”

“You…aren’t with the Towan city government?”

“Show me your dagger. Again, we’ll shoot you, and your little pet there too.”

Hajime narrows his eyes. “I haven’t stolen any daggers or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Hinata, show me your dagger and we won’t kill you.”

Hajime keeps his hand carefully over the Monokuma symbol on the pommel as he unsheathes the knife and holds it up. “Happy?”  
“Move your hand.”

“No.”

“How stupid _are_ you?”

“Fine. Whatever. You’ll probably shoot me anyways.” Stepping between the boy and Yuki, he moves his hand to reveal the Monokuma crest.

The guy’s eyes narrow. “That’s real?”

“Let’s be honest. If I’m a fugitive fleeing to your city with my little brother why would I have even more incriminating evidence of treason strapped to my waist?”

“Oh, c’mon, Kazuichi, the guy’s obviously Monokuma!” chortles a loud voice, and the grass parts as a gigantic guy stands up and walks over to Hajime with a huge, jovial smile. He claps him on the back so hard Hajime’s pretty sure he has a few broken ribs. “Nice to meet you!” the huge man roars. “I’m Nekomaru! Nekomaru Nidai!”

“What the hell?” Hajime groans, winded.

“This is my pal, Kazuichi Souda! We don’t have any archers.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Kazuichi stands and walks out of the grass as well, tugging his thick jacket tighter around himself. “Hi, Hinata. Welcome to Towa. You’ll be safe here.”

“…What?”

Kazuichi grins. “We’ve kept it on the down low, but Monokuma has completely taken over Towa. It’s sort of our base of operations now. Of course, we don’t have any sort of contact with the founder – who the hell knows who it is? – but apparently whoever is at the top right now gave Towan Monokuma forces to take over military operations and strategy for the time being, until we get some more people in other cities. You’ll be welcome here!”

“Let’s get you two to shelter! Your little brother looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Hajime looks down to see Yuki swaying precariously, his eyelids fluttering. Alarmed, he looks up at Kazuichi, who nods to Nekomaru. Nekomaru holds his own cloak over the Hinata brothers, and Hajime drops his, picking Yuki up in his arms like a baby. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“No problem!” Nekomaru says.

They stumble awkwardly to Towa, and Hajime looks around in awe as they pass a few Noble manors. Their grounds are barren, any vegetation destroyed, and the houses themselves are ruined, their roofs stripped and walls sagging, gaping holes revealing mutilated furniture and bloodstained floors. “What the hell happened here?”

“A few of the Nobles who weren’t Monokuma resisted,” Kazuichi says matter-of-factly.

Hajime is suddenly glad he joined.

When they get to the city itself, however, Hajime looks around in astonishment. It all seems so normal. Men and women go about their daily business, and children play happily in the streets. It’s too normal. More normal than Hajime thinks any district is at home. “They seem happy about something.”

“Yes,” a girl’s voice says, and Hajime looks over to see a young woman walking across the street to join them, her blonde hair tumbling across her shoulders, her blue eyes gentle, kind. “With Monokuma in charge, they are thriving. We are letting them lead the lives they want without fear of repercussion, and we are attempting to aid the poor and shorten the class gap. Nice to meet you. I am glad to see that Kazuichi and Nekomaru trust you enough to bring you here. My name is Sonia.”

“Hajime Hinata,” Hajime introduces himself. “My brother is really cold and tired and he needs rest.”

“Of course!” She smiles and tilts her head, some of her platinum blonde hair falling off of her shoulder. He’s taken aback by how truly beautiful she is.

An image – a memory – of Nagito, standing beside Hajime’s bed, naked, Hajime’s palm splayed across the space between his shoulder blades, the early evening sun bathing them both in gold, flashes behind Hajime’s eyes. He can feel his heart contract painfully. She may be beautiful, but he’s got someone even more gorgeous at home. Someone he hasn’t seen in months. Someone he misses more than anything. _I’ll see you soon,_ he vows. _I’ll see you soon if it kills me._

Sonia leads them into a small, cozy little house, and she disappears into the kitchen with an “I’ll be right back.” Hajime lays his now sleeping brother on the sofa and sits down beside him, carding his fingers through the small boy’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t be sorry,” Kazuichi says, slouching into a chair across the low coffee table and kicking his feet up.

“Feet on the floor!” Sonia barks from the other room without even looking.

Kazuichi hurriedly puts his feet on the floor again. “Sorry, Miss Sonia!” he calls. “Anyway, you don’t need to be sorry. You were in deep shit back home, I doubt you had any choice.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agrees.

“So you were staying at Mioda’s?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Nekomaru leans against the wall by the door. “She’s here now!”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah,” Kazuichi says. “Got here an hour or so ago. She’s a good friend. She said she’d harbored you for a while. Is something going on between you two?” he asks slyly.

Hajime snorts. “Uh, yeah, no. I’ve got someone else. I’m grateful to her, though. Where is she?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s over at Impostor’s place.”

“That can’t be his name.”

“It’s not. Most people honestly don’t know what his real name is, though. He’s nice. He’s the best spy we’ve ever had, and he impersonates people really well.”

“Ah.”

“So. This other person. Where is she? You don’t think your Intendant’s people will use her to get back at you for running?”

Hajime hesitates, then runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “He’s at my manor.” He ignores the confused look Kazuichi gives him, followed by open-mouthed surprise. “I have no idea. He and my butler refused to run away with me since the soldiers are just after me, but I haven’t heard from either of them since I left. I have no idea what’s happened to either of them.”

Sonia comes in with a tray laden with a teapot and four cups. She pours for each of them. “I am sure we could help you,” she says.

Hajime accepts his cup gratefully. “What do you mean?”

“We could send some people there,” Kazuichi offers. “Even bring your guy here, if you want. And your butler.”

Hajime gapes at them. “You’d do that? You don’t even know me.”

“Nah, but you’re Monokuma! We need more people here to help us run things anyway.” Sonia nods eagerly in agreement, her eyes shining, and Kazuichi smiles a little.

Hajime considers it for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, do it…thank you.”

“Right away!” Sonia says. She hops up and goes outside again.

Kazuichi stands. “I’m going with her. In the meantime, though, make yourself at home. If you’re going to help out with the rebellion, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like.” He follows her out, Nekomaru on his heels.

These people trust him way too much. He’s grateful for it, though. He stands up and goes into the kitchen. No servants, but that’s alright. He doesn’t mind. He grabs the sugar and puts some in his cup of tea before settling back down beside Yuki. It’s warm here. And nice. For the first time in months, he feels relaxed, and a smile ghosts across his lips at the thought of seeing Nagito again soon. Setting his cup down on the coffee table, he curls up around his brother and lets his eyelids drift closed. He’s tired. He’s so tired. He feels light, though, and he falls asleep easily. He doesn’t dream.

 

“Hajime. Hajime, wake up.”

“Mmm. Nagito?” he asks blearily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Yuki is gone. He blinks his eyes open to see Sonia looking at him with a carefully neutral face. “Oh. Sonia. Did you need something? How long was I asleep?”

“About four hours.”

“Four hours?” On horseback, it takes about an hour and a half either way between his home and Towa. “Is…are they…?”

“Hajime…” She sits down beside him, her hands folded in her lap, and she watches her thumbs press each other back and forth. “Just…how important is this boy to you?”

He can feel his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, any trace of sleep vanishing. “What do you mean?”

“Could you answer me?”

He gulps. “He’s…he’s my best friend. My only friend. But he’s more than a friend. He’s…” How does he put it? “He’s everything,” he finally says. “He’s the most important thing in my life. Without him, I would’ve never joined Monokuma, would’ve just gone on acting as an instrument to my own oppression and the oppression of my district. I didn’t know I needed him before I met him, but now I need him. He’s the only thing that keeps me sane.”

She nods, her face falling as she abandons any semblance of neutrality. “I see.”

He watches her, fear mounting in his chest, crushing his lungs and making it hard to breathe. “Why, Sonia?”

She takes a deep breath and looks over at him. “I am…I do not want to tell you,” she admits. At his glare, she sighs, opens her mouth to speak, closes it again, and finally meets his eyes. He knows what she’s going to say before she speaks, but he refuses to believe it until the last word leaves her lips. “He is dead, Hajime. They killed him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
> If there was something you liked or thought I could've done better, let me know in the comments! I really appreciate any feedback you guys have to give me.  
> This chapter...was a thing. I had no idea how to characterize Kazuichi or Nekomaru, if you couldn't tell, but I hope I at least did a decent job.   
> Also, I am in very dire need of new songs for my request series. It would be awesome if you guys had some Komahina or other SDR2-related songs you wanted me to write to! Thanks for reading!


	26. Apathy

Hajime crouches in the branches of the tree, his hand wrapped tightly around the branch in front of him, his body pressed against the trunk. Below him, three extravagantly dressed Nobles argue in loud voices, gesturing wildly, faces red with fury, and Hajime rolls his eyes as their hands creep toward their weapons at their belts. If they look up, he’s screwed, but he’s pretty comfortable where he is. They’re too stupid to even think of looking up. Across the courtyard, Kazuichi slinks across the high concrete wall, hidden well behind the thick vegetation. He props himself up on one elbow and grimaces at Hajime, eyes wide, waving his hand frantically beside his throat. _Don’t!_ he mouths.

Hajime shakes his head and looks down again. They’ve already killed more than half of the squad Hajime and Kazuichi led here. They’re more than deserving of death, and Hajime doesn’t mind giving it to them. He adjusts his mask, the black and white halves making the world seem almost darker on his left. He jumps, landing right in the middle of the heated argument.

All three men freeze for only a heartbeat, but it’s more than enough. Hajime whips his knife through the air, burying it between one man’s ribs, and he kicks out backward when the other two start to move. His opponents off balance, he rips his dagger out of the dead man’s chest and slits one’s throat, reaching out with a hand to seize the last one’s neck. He presses in on the windpipe with a thumb. The Noble squirms in terror as Hajime brings up both hands and snaps the man’s neck.

“Hajime!” Kazuichi calls from the top of the wall. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Hajime straightens and looks down at the bodies surrounding him. His boots scuff the stone cobbles quietly. Sighing, he wipes his blade on the inside of his cloak and nods, running toward Kazuichi and jumping, hooking one hand over the wall as Kazuichi grabs his other hand and hauls him up. Together, they jump down to the other side, racing through the dark back alley towards the rendezvous point picked out by their strategists. Sure enough, the rest of their squad is leaning against the wall, rubbing their arms vigorously to keep warm. They look up as Hajime and Kazuichi hurtle towards them. Sonia’s eyes widen when she sees Hajime. “Are you alright?” she asks him. “You are covered in blood!”

“Not mine,” he mutters. “The Nobles’. They’re dead.”

“Huh?” A young woman, her fist clenched tightly around her longbow, narrows her eyes. “We sent eight men in there and you’re telling us that six of them died and you managed to kill three of our targets all by yourself?”

“Yes. But Kazuichi and I managed to take out the other five of them together so it’s not so strange. We need to go back to Towa. Our job here’s finished.”

Kazuichi sighs and looks pointedly at Hajime. “Our job was done with the five Nobles that were confirmed to be hostile. We didn’t _need_ to kill the other three.”

“They killed us.”

“So you were trying to avenge the ones who died? I guess you were close to them?”

“Sure. They’re Monokuma.”

“Yeah? And what were their names?”

Hajime shrugs. “I dunno.”

Kazuichi narrows his eyes. “You’re not getting revenge for them. You’re just thinking about Nagito or whatever his name was, right? You’ve been hell-bent on slaughtering every authority figure we’ve encountered since you got to Towa. It’s like you don’t even care if they’re with us or not. Do you have any idea how hard it is keeping you in check? It’s been months. If you still haven’t gotten over your dead boyfriend, or whatever he was to you, it’s high time you did.”

Hajime gives him a blank stare. “I have.”

“Hajime,” Sonia says, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. “We will talk about this when we get home. We need to go.”

Hajime lifts one shoulder, walking away. “Fine. Whatever.” He can feel their worried gazes burning the back of his neck, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He’s so bored.

 

It’s strange. When Sonia told him Nagito was dead, he didn’t feel the flood of grief and anguish he was expecting. Everything just vanished. He reached for the sorrow he knew he should feel, the excruciating loss, and it wasn’t there. Nothing was. He stared at her for some time, watching her squirm beneath the blank lack of emotion in his stare, before he finally rose and just staggered numbly out the door, ignoring her anxious calls behind him. He truly feels…nothing. He’s lost track of time. He’s pretty sure he’s been here for several months, but for all he knows he could’ve gotten to Towa a week ago. His hair is growing out. He’s fairly certain he’s losing weight, and he doesn’t really have any recollection of eating anything in the last few days. Or sleeping.

Apparently Chisa was killed, too. They found her head on a pike in the garden of his manor. He can just imagine it – her skin would be pale, grey, the shaft of the pike stained reddish brown with dried blood, her eyes lidded and glazed, jaw slack, her long ginger hair swaying in the wind. Her fiancé would be devastated. Nagito was executed, his body carted off to wherever Junko disposed of the products of her dirty work.

Sonia and Kazuichi and Nekomaru are all nice, but they’re too nice. They’re boring. All of this is boring. He doesn’t understand why he’s even here. The only emotion he’s been able to muster since Nagito’s death is the sick satisfaction he gets when he kills on one of their raids. The crunch of bones and the slight resistance of his knife slicing through skin and muscle are addicting.

That said, even that has been slowly losing its charm.

He’s tired of this.

 

“You’re sure you’re over your friend?” Kazuichi asks in a low voice as they ride back to Towa.

Hajime looks over at him. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, Yuki misses the old you.”

“Yeah.”

“He told me last week. Your brother needs you, man.”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re really okay, why are you like this? I’m trying to help you.”

“Thanks.”

Kazuichi sighs. “You’re starting to piss me off, you know?”

“Yeah.”

Kazuichi thinks for a long moment. “How…long has it been since you last saw the guy?”

“Nagito?”

“Yeah.”

Hajime shrugs.

“Well…you said you were at Ibuki’s for three months, or somewhere around there?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve been here for six.”

Hajime nods. Ah. So that’s it. “Yeah.”

“So it would be nine months?”

“Yeah.”

“You had no news before he died?”

“Yeah.”

“God _damn_ it, Hajime! Stop saying that!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

Kazuichi makes an infuriated noise and gestures soundlessly with one hand before finding his voice again. “Whatever! I tried. I tried.” He kicks his horse faster to ride beside Sonia, who moves away.

Hajime disinterestedly watches his hands on his horse’s neck bob with the animal’s movement. He’s not stupid. He knows Kazuichi is trying to help. He knows they’re all trying to help. He doesn’t need help. He wishes they’d leave him alone.

Oh. He still has his mask on. He pushes it up and pulls it off of his head, stowing it in the bag at the side of his saddle.

“So boring,” he murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey!  
> As always, if there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, please let me know! I really appreciate any feedback you guys come up with.  
> Also! If you have any songs you'd like me to write to for any character(s)/pairing(s) from Dangan Ronpa! And as most of you probably know, I love requests, so if you have any fic you want me to write, whether it's to a song or not, I'd love to hear about that, too! Feel free to request anything!  
> You guys are amazing. Thanks so much for sticking with me!


	27. Divulgence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...yeah. This is a thing.

Nagito ducks back through the window as a group of women saunters by happily, clad in extravagant pastel dresses, their hair up in elaborate buns. The sagging, unpainted windowsill is rough beneath his hands, and he sucks at the splinter in his thumb that he received almost as soon as he got here. He almost feels like the room is booby-trapped; any bare skin that brushes the walls is in danger of being run through with long, barbed slivers of wood. The sunset bathes the room in soft pink, the aging wood dark and fragile, on the verge of collapsing. Of course he’d prefer some other place, but he doesn’t really have a choice. It’s out of the way, easy to hide in, and he’s fairly sure he has a little while before the soldiers discover it and search for him here. Now he knows how Hajime felt.

He tried to look for him at Lady Mioda’s, but the manor was deserted. When he investigated, one bedroom on the second floor smelled faintly like Hajime, the odd combination of apples and vanilla he’s grown accustomed to, wafting into his nostrils every once in a while as the breeze stirred the curtain before the slightly ajar balcony door. He spent a while in there, trying to regroup, wondering where the boy could have possibly gone.

He knows Hajime hasn’t been caught or killed. It would be all over the newspapers he regularly steals from the wealthy family down the street; Hajime’s become something of a well-known figure around here, even in this outer district. No one knows where he is. Coveted in secret by members of Monokuma, hunted vigorously by Junko’s men, and even the Intendant’s…Nagito thinks Hajime would like this much better than being a Noble, if he were here.

Nagito’s own name has been popping up everywhere, as well. When the soldiers stormed Hajime’s manor, probably intending to get revenge for the fugitives Hajime had released – whoever they were, Nagito doesn’t know – they massacred the servants, littering the halls with bodies and staining the floors and walls with blood. They got Chisa, too. He’d been lounging beneath a tree in the garden when he heard the screams. Chisa must have been running out to warn him when he saw four soldiers force her to the ground, and seconds later her scream was cut off with a horrible wet _thunk._

And he did what he does best. He ran.

He grits his teeth, sinking his fingernails into the back of his forearm. Of course he ran. He’s selfish. To be quite honest, he wouldn’t mind dying, but just once, even if it’s far too self-serving for someone like him to even think of, he’d like to see Hajime again. He hates himself for it. Starving here in this little abandoned home is nowhere near the punishment he deserves for being such a coward. Hajime is worthy of someone so much better than him.

Whatever. He’s not here to wallow in self-loathing. He’s looking for Peko. She said she would meet him here.

There’s a quiet knock at the door, one long rap followed by two shorter ones. He hurriedly opens it, and Peko rushes in, pushing her hood back and letting her silvery hair fall over her shoulder. “Hi!” he greets her with a smile.

“Hello,” she says. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you want to meet with me here? Lord Kuzuryuu’s manor would have sufficed.”

He shrugs. “Well, it looks like I’m a fugitive now! I wouldn’t want to get you both in trouble.”

She nods. “I suppose. But we would have hidden you.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes. But what did you wish to speak to me about?”

He nods. “Thank you for coming. I wanted to ask you – ”

“Is it about Lord Hinata?”

“Well, partly. Actually, yes. Two things. Maybe three. Or four. Let’s just play it by ear. I guess Junko and the Intendant don’t know you’re in Monokuma. Does anyone, besides me?”

“Yes. Of course Lady Enoshima and her sister aren’t aware of where my lord’s and my own allegiance really lie, but I have no problem divulging it to other Monokuma, so naturally, Lady Mioda, Lady Koizumi, and Lord Tanaka are all aware of my true loyalties.”

Nagito blinks. “Lady Mioda is Monokuma?”  
“Indeed. She was the first of the Nobles to turn, actually. Truthfully, she’s always been a bit of a rebel anyways.”

He sighs in relief of worry that he didn’t know he felt.

“Why?”

“Oh. Um. No reason. Anyway. Do you have any idea who’s behind all of this?”

“Monokuma?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. Rumor has it that no one really knows who’s pulling all the strings except for a select few. It’s probably for the best, though; we can’t sell them out if we’re discovered, captured, and tortured.”

“True. This is a bit off topic, but have you heard anything about the former Lord and Lady Hinata? Hajime’s parents?”

“His parents? No…?”  
“A couple named Takako and Watari?”

“No.”

“Oh well. It was worth asking. Do you know where…Hajime himself might be?”

Her eyes soften. “You’re looking for him?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“I apologize, no. But, I have to ask, do you think his absence may be in some way related to Lady Mioda’s recent disappearance?”

“Probably.”

“I see. Lord Kuzuryuu is angry with her; he has to manage her district as well in her place until she returns.”

“Oh, well, I don’t actually know where she is. I just have a feeling they’re together wherever they are.”

Peko nods and folds her arms over her chest, flicking one long silver braid over her shoulder. “I don’t know why you think that, but I’ll trust you, because it seems I have no choice. Might I make a suggestion?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“Not even Lady Enoshima and the Intendant’s best dogs and soldiers have been able to find your young lord anywhere in the city. You haven’t been found just because you haven’t been shown to present any large threat yet, and you’ve been only recently labeled a criminal, but at this point he would be the number one priority for everyone of any status, and yet he’s gone. He’s never struck me as the smartest person. I hope you don’t take offense by that. But if he really hasn’t been captured yet…I think it’s likely he may no longer be here.”

His shoulders droop. “Yeah. I’d started to think that, too.”

“Yes. If you want to find him, maybe you would be better off in Towa, or another city somewhere near here.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Peko.”

She nods, and her hand reaches over her shoulder, fiddling with the hilt of the sword strapped to her back. “The offer still stands; Lord Kuzuryuu and I could shelter you for now, if you like?”

He shakes his head. “Oh, no, someone like me doesn’t deserve to put you in danger like that. I’ll remain on my own for now. I…have something I want to do before I follow your advice and head to Towa.”

She nods. “If you insist.” She wraps her cloak around her once again and with a quiet, windy swish, she’s gone.

Nagito looks at his hands in resignation. He’s not an idiot. He doesn’t trust Peko blindly, and as suspicious of her as he is, he does believe most of what she said. As eager as he is to take off for Towa right away, he knows that he shouldn’t drag Hajime into what he has to do. It’s time to see if his hunch is right about some clues he’s been trying to string together. He glances out at the sunrise. Not yet. He’ll have to wait until it’s truly dark to leave.

 

Hajime sits beneath a tree in the small park just a little ways down the road from Sonia’s place. The breeze stirs the leaves quietly above his head, the angry purple of the twilight fading into an inky black. He picks absentmindedly at the long nail of his index finger with his thumb as two children, both girls, chase each other around a scattering of rocks a few yards away. He watches them, his hair tickling the nape of his neck.

“Hajime!” someone calls from behind him. “Brother!”

He simply hums quietly in acknowledgment.

Yuki runs around the bench and jumps up on it so he’s looming over Hajime. The small boy waves a hand in front of his older brother’s eyes. “Hello? You’re not dead, are you?”

Hajime looks up and shakes his head. “No.”

Yuki pokes him in the forehead. “Are you _sure?”_

“Yeah.”

Yuki harrumphs and thrusts a thick jacket in Hajime’s face. “It is really, _really_ cold out here!” he announces.

“Is it?” Hajime looks down at his hands. The fingertips are pale, verging on blue, and he’s suddenly aware that his teeth are chattering. “Oh. Yeah.” He takes the coat and folds it in his lap. “Thanks.”

“That’s not how you wear a coat!” Yuki says indignantly.

“No, it’s not.”

Yuki grabs the coat and drapes it insistently over Hajime’s shoulders. “Now put your arms through the sleeves!”

Hajime obeys. The coat is lined with soft fur. “Thanks.”

Yuki slouches down beside him and swings his legs, his small feet just a couple of inches above the ground. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m bored,” Hajime says simply.

“You’re bored?”

“Yeah.” Yuki’s too young to understand.

“That isn’t an excuse! I know lots of games that could help you. Kazuichi’s taught me a lot!”  
“Kazuichi? What do you mean?”

“He’s the dark-haired fraidy-cat guy.”

“I know who he is.” Hajime furrows his brow.

“Oh. Well, you’ve been a huge pain for a really long time now so he told me he’d look after me until you…‘get your shit together.’” Yuki makes quotation marks with his fingers.

“I have my shit together.”

“Oh…well, too late! Kazuichi is my new big brother?”

“Is he?”

“Yep!”

“You’re trying to make me jealous, I guess?”

Yuki looks away. “Why are you like this?” he asks, but this time there’s real sadness, real resentment, in his voice.

“I told you. I’m bored.”

“That’s not fair. It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“I don’t know!” Yuki snaps. “It just isn’t! I want my brother back!”

Hajime watches Yuki impassively as the small boy’s lip begins to tremble. “I’m sorry,” Hajime says, unsure what to do.  
“It’s not okay!”

There’s a long pause. “Maybe Kazuichi should be your brother,” Hajime offers.

Yuki’s mouth falls open and he stares at Hajime with an expression of utter betrayal before bursting into tears and pushing off of the bench. He storms off furiously. Hajime sighs. He knows that wasn’t what Yuki wanted to hear, but he honestly thinks that as he is he can’t be the brother Yuki needs.

The girls are looking at him now. He looks back until they squeal and run away, making a beeline for what must be their house. He glances down at the sleeves of the coat. It’s just a little bit too small for him; the cuffs don’t quite reach his wrists.

He’s lost in thought when a tiny voice squeaks, “Hey, mister.” One of the two tiny girls from earlier shuffles her feet in the grass in front of him, cradling a steaming mug of something in her bare palms. “You look cold.”

“Why does everyone think I look cold?”

She ponders the question for a moment. Tilting her head, she reaches up on her tiptoes and carefully removes one hand from the mug, tapping his nose gently. “Your nose is blue. You look like a snow monster.” She holds up the mug. “Here.”

“That’s for me?”

“Yep! Maybe if you’re warmer, you’ll be nicer to that boy you were with. Is he your son?”

“My little brother.”

“Really? But you look old.”

“How old do I look?”

“Hm. Around thirty?”

“No. I’m seventeen.”

“Hmmm…no. Do you want cocoa or not?”

He shakes his head. “Maybe give that to him instead. I’m fine.”

“Oh…okay. I don’t know where he went, so is it okay if I have it?”

“Sure.”

She brightens. “Thanks!” She scurries away.

Too many small children. He wishes Sonia would let him on another raiding party. Maybe that would alleviate some of his boredom. But no, not until he returns to normal. He’s not sure if that’s ever happening.

Distant yelling twists through the gentle breeze blowing toward him from the direction of the city wall. “Huh.” Maybe someone’s attacking? That’s like bringing the raid to him. He wouldn’t mind that, hell, he’d welcome it. He pats his forearm, his leg, the back of his boot to make sure he still has all of his weapons before he sets his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist and stands. He’ll go check it out.

But before he can even start toward the gates, he realizes the yelling is getting closer, closer, until he can just make out the words, just make out the voices. Kazuichi? He sounds angry. More voices, too. Unfamiliar. A lot of enemies? Hajime braces himself, moving out into the center of the street. Waiting. They’ll come to him if he stays here. Louder. Louder. “Come back here, you son of a – oh, shit! Shoot him! Kill him!”

Hajime tightens his hand on his sword and draws it. He waits a split second, until he’s sure they’re right around the corner, and then he charges forward, anticipation warming the blood in his veins to an almost unbearable heat. Two more steps, three more…he whirls around the corner to find himself face to face with Kazuichi backed by a small squad of armed men. Kazuichi’s face morphs into panic when he spots Hajime. Hajime follows the gazes of the rest of the men toward a slim figure perched on top of an abandoned cart on the side of the street.

The figure’s eyes widen, and Hajime just stares, confused. “Nagito?”

Nagito blinks at him. “Hajime?” He’s bleeding from hundreds of tiny cuts all over his face, his grey eyes shocked and…hopeful?

One young man, his eyes narrowed, slowly lifts his bow and nocks an arrow. Hajime lifts his sword. “You so much as touch him and I swear to god you’ll be breathing past a blade in your throat for the remainder of your very short life.”

The young man hurriedly lets out all of the tension in his string.

Hajime looks up at Nagito. “You’re dead.”

“Huh?”

“Hajime…” Kazuichi clears his throat.

“You’re dead,” Hajime repeats. “Junko executed you.”

“Well, I’m sure she’d like to.” Nagito casts a suspicious look toward Kazuichi. “I’m not dead, Hajime. I need to talk to you. Please. It’s clear you’re not as happy to see me as I am to see you, but I really, really need to tell you something.”

Hajime stares at him stonily.

“Hajime, please.” Nagito jumps down off of the cart and walks toward him. Hajime takes a step back, and Nagito stops. “I have to tell you in private.”

Hajime looks over at Kazuichi. “You told me he was dead.”

He splutters for a moment. “We thought he was!”

“Really? Did you?”

“I don’t know! What is it with you and answering questions with questions?”

“Why did you tell me he was dead?”

“He…we…shit!”

Hajime narrows his eyes. “Why. Did you tell me. He was dead?”

“Orders!”

“From who?”

Nagito’s edged a bit closer to Hajime now. “Junko,” he whispers in Hajime’s ear.

“What?”

“What did you tell him?” Kazuichi points a finger at Nagito angrily.

Hajime stares at Nagito. “From…?”

“Yeah. Junko.” Nagito looks around, leans over, and whispers quickly into Hajime’s ear. “She’s been behind all this from the start. She started Monokuma.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, so not my best work. And Hajime turned into Konoha Kokonose for a little bit there, I think...whoops. Sorry.  
> But anyway! As always, if there was something you liked or wished I could've done better, please, let me know!  
> Also, if you have a song you'd like me to write to for any pairing(s)/character(s) in Dangan Ronpa, I'd love to hear it! I'm always grateful for your requests. Really, you can ask me for anything, songfic or not. I love you guys! Thanks for reading!


	28. Dispassion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a VERY short chapter that I wrote at family Christmas last night while my cousins were opening presents. I wanted it to be longer but I wasn't sure what to do and I'm so busy with Christmas stuff that I didn't really think I'd have a enough time to finish the chapter if I decided to make it more exciting or at least have them do more than talk so yeah. (I'm pretty sure my grammar went to shit somewhere in that sentence there but fuck it, I don't have time to correct it.) Hope you enjoy!

Nagito can feel Hajime’s stare on the back of his neck as he scribbles on the hard stone wall with the tiny white rock he found in the corner this morning. Since then, his writing has spilled across the walls like milk, thin, faint white lines lacing their way through shaded pockmarks and bands of mortar to form an enormous web of nonsensical drawings. He shrugs now, rolling his head to ease the tension in his muscles, trying to flatten the hairs on the back of his neck that have begun to stand on end.

The tip of the rock hovers in the air for a moment before Nagito sighs and stands up, tossing it back underneath his cot as he turns to Hajime and sits down on his mattress to lean against his bedframe. “This is pointless,” he says, looking over and feeling his heart tighten in sadness. Hajime’s bloodshot gaze roams over the room with an odd sort of cold apathy, his dark hair brushing his shoulders, waxy, ashen skin stretched too tight over bony joints and knuckles as he absentmindedly drums his fingers on his thigh. The thick vertical shadows from the bars on their window throw stark black shadows across his face. He nods silently and looks back at Nagito. Nagito shakes his head in sorrow. “What happened to you?” he asks quietly.

“I dunno.” Even Hajime’s voice has lost its power and conviction, settling into a dull monotone behind his lips.

“I know I haven’t seen you in almost a year, but I never imagined you’d change this much.”

“Yeah, well. Sorry, I guess.”

“You can’t even hold a conversation anymore.” Nagito watches a few tiny specks of dust churn in the dim light from the window. “It’s almost pathetic,” he says after a pause.

Hajime hums in acknowledgement.

“Why are you like this? What _happened?_ You’ve never been the strongest person but you're resilient. Or you were.” It’s strange. Grief tightens Nagito’s throat, makes it hard to breathe, almost makes him want to cry, and it’s like Hajime’s died; the boy’s eyes are glassy and his face lifeless, numb.

Hajime is silent now.

Nagito sighs. “They’re just going to leave us here until we rot.”

“Or they’ll execute us,” Hajime adds, sounding utterly unconcerned about the fact.

“And we’re just going to let that happen.”

There’s a long pause, and Nagito is sure Hajime isn’t going to reply when he shakes his head. “You’ll get out.”

“What?” Nagito asks, furrowing his brow.  
“You’ll leave. I’ll help you.”

Nagito watches him, resignation and pity replacing his frustration. “Do you… _want_ to stay? _Want_ to die here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t particularly care. I don’t want you to die, though.”

Nagito pinches the bridge of his nose. Carefully, he climbs off of his cot and sits down beside Hajime. Hesitantly, he lets their shoulders brush gently, glad that Hajime doesn’t move away this time. “You really are broken.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“How about this, Hajime? I’ll only escape if you come with me.” He exhales slowly. “God, you look terrible.”

Hajime studies his hands. He’s so skinny. Borderline emaciated. His hands are hardly more than a few bones covered thinly by gray, papery skin. “Yeah, I do,” he says, furrowing his brow as if realizing it for the first time. “Sure, okay. I guess I’ll go with you.”

Nagito nods with relief. “Great. And then we can get you some help.” He narrows his eyes. “It looks like we won’t be relying on Monokuma any longer, though.”

“No,” Hajime agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the chapter's length, but I hope you liked it! As always, if there was something you liked or thought I could've done better, please let me know! I always appreciate any sort of feedback you guys have to give.  
> Also, if there is a song you'd like me to write to for any pairing(s)/character(s) in DR, I'd love to hear it! Requests are the best. Thank you so much for your patience to those people whose songs I haven't quite gotten around to writing yet, and I promise that I'm getting there! I'm busy as all hell right now but they'll happen soon, along with updated chapters of all of my works. Merry Christmas, happy Chanuka, happy Kwanzaa, a belated happy Solstice, and any other holiday you may celebrate, to all of you wonderful people!


	29. Irritation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM LATE! I'M SO LATE!!!  
> I mean, I guess I never specified one certain day of the week or anything on which I'd post new chapters but yeesh, I think this is the longest I've gone yet without updating this work. I'm sorry!  
> I hope you enjoy! I got tired of angsting _too_ much, so this might be a little less depressing. Just a little.

Nagito skids to a halt, putting his hands on his knees, the afternoon sun warming his neck as he pants and looks up at Hajime with a big smile. It disappears almost immediately; though Hajime’s cheeks are flushed with exertion, his glassy eyes betray no emotion, thin-lipped indifference hardening his expression. Nagito wipes his palms on his pants and straightens, sighing. “We’re free now,” he says heavily.

“Mm.” Hajime doesn’t even move. The color fades from his cheeks and Nagito has to pinch the bridge of his nose to fend off the headache threatening to rise behind his eyes. He growls in frustration. “Okay. This is ridiculous. You’re sad. I’m tired of this. I’m going to go find something to eat – hopefully – and I really hope you’ll be a little more…I dunno, _you_ by the time I get back.”

Hajime shrugs and sits down in the leaves beside an old tree at the edge of the clearing, in a little patch of sun. Nagito turns on his heel and marches off into the forest.

He’s at the end of his rope. He doesn’t mean to be short with Hajime – or maybe he does, he doesn’t really know – but he’s tired of seeing someone so strong reduced to such debilitating despair without even an attempt to bounce back. He thinks it’s getting worse. His hair is past his shoulders now, and he’s going to starve to death soon if he doesn’t get his appetite back soon. His skin is more grey than any other color. His smile is gone completely. Nagito has tried everything. Even the stupid puns and dumb jokes that used to make him roar with laughter now fall dead in the air between them. He kicks a stick, sending it cracking against the trunk of a tree in front of him.

Hajime’s laughter…it was always more precious for all the trouble it took to draw out of him. The sound of it was like music, rising and falling with the silent, sad rhythm he seemed to live his life to. Rude, stubborn, and a bit cowardly, he filled the void left by Chiaki’s death and dug deeper by Junko’s tyranny with harsh words and obstinate insistence on pushing anyone and everyone away, save perhaps for Chisa.

Nagito jumps as a branch cracks somewhere behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see a young doe watching him from behind a thick mess of brambles. She flicks her ear, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring as she sniffs the air in curiosity. He sighs in relief. “It’s just you,” he murmurs. For a moment he thought someone had followed him and Hajime away from the prison. She snorts and turns away, stalking off into the trees.

Their escape was strangely easy. Someone had dropped an expensive-looking hairpin just a few feet from their door, and Nagito was able to reach it by removing one of his bedposts and reaching through the bars with it to drag the pin towards him. He picked the lock and they simply…walked out. There was no one there to guard them, no one to stop them at the door. It was freaking Nagito out, making him uneasy until he broke into a run, dragging Hajime along with him, and fled into the forest. He doesn’t get it. It’s still unsettling. Why was it so straightforward? Where were the guards? Souda? Sonia? Nidai? He supposes he should take what he can get, but he won’t let his guard down.

Hajime might. He’s hard to predict lately.

Nagito’s starting to feel sick, thinking of him like this. It’s not like Hajime was ever anything special – he was just a normal guy stuck in a government position he didn’t want – but something about his utter blandness, or maybe the misfortune of his situation, drew Nagito to him. Emotionally, of course; once he was indebted to Hajime for saving him from the evil cook, he was sort of stuck _spacially_ close to him. He wanted to know more about him. There had to be something extraordinary beneath all of that ordinariness.

But even after a long time, nothing about Hajime was remotely extraordinary, and instead Nagito discovered that beneath the fatalistic, sarcastic façade was a wounded, gentle, wistful soul. It didn’t like to show itself, but when it did, it would make anyone with half a heart pity him. He was never as strong as he thought he was. He’d lost anyone who was ever there to support him, to help him, to love him, and where Nagito searched for a shining golden light of exceptionality, all he found was a black hole of sorrow and longing, one so huge he wasn’t sure what would ever fill it.

 _Now it’s just gotten bigger,_ he remarks to himself dryly. _Because of me, probably. I’ve always had that effect on people._

But never in this way. He can’t pretend that what he’s had with Hajime is anything like he’s ever experienced with anyone else he’s ever known. His mother loved him and kicked him out when he was six. His brother and sister loved him, he’s sure, but he had to leave before they could even grow old enough to say his name. Chiaki loved him but she already had someone she loved more, in an entirely different way. He was like a dog in a pet store that no one was willing to take home. They might have visited, they might have enjoyed him while they were there – if he was lucky – but he belonged with none of them. Until Hajime. Hajime let him in, kept him around, loved him with a ferocity that was almost frightening, but exhilarating, too. There was something thrilling about knowing that they had both lost everything and the world had long since run out of patience with them and yet they were able to make a home within one another like dying men clinging hopelessly to life.

He’s forgotten what he’s doing out here. He feels worse now, and no closer to helping Hajime with whatever the hell this is. He feels just as pathetic as his friend waiting for him somewhere behind him in the clearing he left. Food? That was probably it, but he’s not particularly hungry anymore. Nevertheless, he grabs a branch off a berry bush that he’s pretty sure is safe and makes his way back the way he came.

It’s clear after a while that he’s come a lot farther than he thought he had. He’s just beginning to wonder if he’s lost when he spots a break in the trees ahead and makes a beeline for it, the thorns on the branch in his hand scratching his skin viciously. “Hi, Hajime,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I’m b – ” He stops short, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Hajime is asleep. Nagito hasn’t seen Hajime sleep once since he found him again, but here he is, slumped against the trunk of a tree, snoring quietly, golden sunlight filtering through the leaves above his head to dapple his face and cheeks in tiny spots of light. His mouth hangs slightly open, drool trailing thinly down his chin, every one of his muscles relaxed as dark circles of exhaustion disappear from around his gently closed eyes. A bit of pink has returned to his cheeks, too, small blossoms of color in his pale grey skin. He looks almost like…well, like Hajime.

Nagito tiptoes forward, wincing at every sound he makes, terrified to death that he’ll wake him. Ever so softly, he sits down beside the sleeping boy and looks over at him for a moment before he slowly lifts a hand and lightly brushes Hajime’s hair away from his face. He doesn’t let their skin brush, though. Not even their arms touch each other. As close as they used to be, they’ve drifted far apart, and Nagito isn’t sure it’s a gap that can be bridged right now, even if one of them is asleep and all the other wants to do is kiss him.

He sits and watches Hajime sleep for a long time, and the sun has dipped behind the trees, the sky turning a deep shade of purple, when finally he stirs. His eyelids wrinkle for a moment as he battles against the onrush of consciousness. He sighs and blinks his eyes open reluctantly. “Hm?” he mumbles, his voice croaky from sleep.

“Hi,” Nagito says cautiously. “Did you sleep well?”

“I don’t know.” Hajime shrugs, unconcerned.

Nagito groans quietly and nods. “Well, you look a lot better,” he mutters, and he gets up, walking away.

“Thanks.”

Nagito freezes and frowns. He looks back over his shoulder. “What did you say?”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t usually say anything unless I ask you a question.”

“Yeah?” It’s almost a question.

He smiles. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, but…

He’ll take what he can get. He just won’t let his guard down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Y'know what, this is the 29th chapter. Anyone who's stuck with it this long probably has my whole "comment and song" spiel memorized. So I'll probably quit with that now. Though I will remind you to leave a song you'd like me to write in the comments if you have one! daddykeehl, and all of the people who are waiting on me to write their songs, I'm working on it! I got so caught up in Christmas and then school (I had a bunch of homework due that I procrastinated on for my entire winter break) that I didn't get to them, but I promise I will! I want to update my Naegami work and then I promise I will not post anything else or really even do anything else until I have another songfic out. Thank you all for your patience!


	30. Lack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a really good mood, you know?  
> And it was high time this fic stopped being so damn angsty for, like, five seconds.  
> So I sat down to write, thinking, "I'm gonna make their lives a little better for this chapter!"  
> And this happened.  
> CLOSE ENOUGH
> 
> But in all seriousness, I promise it'll get a bit more lighthearted sometime in the next couple of chapters. I hope you enjoy!

The dreams are back.

Hajime hasn’t had them in a long, long time. Maybe as long as a year. He’s lost track.

He thought they were gone. Swallowed up by Nagito’s laughter and the new vibrant splendor of the sunlight slanting through his bedroom window. His house is probably gone now, though, and though it pains him, he’s forgotten what Nagito’s laugh sounds like. Nagito is different now, more serious, almost somber, all of the sadness and frustration that used to hide behind cheerful grins and terrible puns and stupid jokes now rolling off of him in waves that cloud the air with grey and weigh heavy in Hajime’s lungs, making it hard to breathe when Nagito is around. Luckily – unluckily? – he often isn’t.

They’re not the same anymore. Whatever they used to be is falling apart, just as they are. Hajime’s beginning to feel again, but all he can feel is pain, and he’s not sure if he’d rather be numb.

Their frustration has erected a flaming wall between them and they’ve stopped trying to climb it. Nagito spends most of his time in the woods, doing who knows what, and Hajime’s left here beneath his tree, or somewhere in the little clearing they’ve made camp in, talking to ghosts. Going crazy, he’s pretty sure, because the dreams are back, and they’ve taken over his waking world, too.

“Hello, Hajime,” a female voice says beside him. Low, soft, the same as ever, like she’s always just waking up from sleep.

He doesn’t look over at her, but he closes his eyes, drinking in her scent, lilacs and the faintest hint of wood musk. “You’re back,” he murmurs.

“I’m not,” she says, and he can hear the rustle of her hair as she shakes her head.

“You know what I mean.”

She makes that tiny noise of hers he loves, her little half-hum, half-laugh. Her voice is slow, every syllable soft and round: “You know what I mean, too…I think.” So like her. So her. It is her. He knows it is, and yet…he does know what she means. She’s dead. She can't be back. She’s a figment of his imagination. But every day, it’s harder and harder to remind himself of that fact. He doesn’t answer. Her small hand wraps around his. So real. Warm, too. “Nagito is gone again,” she remarks.

He feels a stab of guilt. “Yeah. He usually is. Where do you think he goes?”

“You’re his friend,” she points out. “I only met him once.”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and looks at her. There she is, choppy, rosy pink hair brushing her shoulders; light red-brown eyes, as always, tranquil and just the tiniest bit sad, too; cheeks flushed slightly pink in the chilly air. He brushes her hair out of her eyes and feels her eyelashes flutter against his fingertips. “You should come more often. It’s worse when you’re gone,” he sighs.

She shakes her head. “Can’t. It’s bad enough that I’m here at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a figment of your imagination, love. You’ve only created me to torment yourself.”

He knows this. It’s the same conversation he’s had with her for the past few days.

She smiles affectionately. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

“No!” He stiffens and shakes his head roughly. “Not again.”

She nods gently and kisses his cheek ever so lightly. “Don’t bring me back again tomorrow, okay? I’m dead.”

He watches helplessly as she vanishes. She’s become like a drug to him. He looks forward only to the next time she comes back.

“Who are you talking to?” someone asks behind him.

He jumps and looks over his shoulder, his gaze hardening. “No one,” he snaps.

Nagito looks tired. He’s got dark circles beneath his eyes – even darker than usual – and his clothes are covered in dirt and leaves. He says nothing, going instead to duck beneath the flap of their makeshift tent made of a tarp and a few blankets Nagito stole from a farmhouse on the outskirts of Towa. Hajime can hear him muttering to himself quietly. “Who are _you_ talking to?” he demands.

The tarp flutters in the breeze, cracking violently as the wind picks up. “The old you,” he replies after a moment.

Hajime sits in stunned silence, staring at the angrily thrashing tent. Every once in a while it flaps up high enough for him to catch a glimpse of Nagito, facing him, his grey eyes burning with some emotion Hajime can’t quite place. “People change,” he snarls finally.

“You don’t think I know that? You’re dumber than I thought.” He climbs back out of the tent and sits cross-legged in the dust.

Hajime growls low in his throat, anger surging hot through his veins as he climbs to his feet.

Nagito scoffs. “Are you trying to scare me? _You?”_ He meets Hajime’s eyes steadily. “That’s kind of pathetic. You do realize the predicament we’re in, right?”

“No. I don’t.”

Nagito sighs and shakes his head with contempt. “Then I guess I’ll explain it.” He folds his arms across his chest and lifts his chin slightly. “You need me. I need you. And apparently, we hate each other.”

“‘Apparently?’ Like you had nothing to do with it?”

Nagito just hums and tilts his head.

Hajime can feel his lip curling. “You’ve changed, too, you know? Now you’re just an asshole.”

“What, you’re angry at me because I’m not following you around like some obedient puppy, making _stupid_ puns and tending to your every need? Well, I’ve got some news for you: the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Shut up!”

“Witty. Wow, that comeback stings.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Really?” He raises one eyebrow. “You’re resorting to threats now? It’s not my fault. None of this is my fault. I don’t think you understand that.”

Hajime groans and turns away. “I’m done with this.”

“You’d rather talk to your dead girlfriend than your friend? I’m hurt,” Nagito sneers.

Hajime stiffens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb; you’re dull enough as it is.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why not?”

Hajime glowers at him. “You expect me to think you’re saying these things just because you can? That’s not like you.”

“Is it not?”

“Everything you do has a purpose. That’s just how you are.”

Nagito laughs dryly. “You said it yourself,” he points out. “People change. And besides, you were the one who wanted to fight in the first place.”  
“I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted you to leave me alone.”

Nagito shrugs, spreading his hands.

Hajime narrows his eyes. “Nothing else to say?”

“Nope,” he says curtly and runs a hand through his hair. His gaze fixes on a spot on the ground between them, and suddenly, he looks like a dying man, eyes lifeless behind the sharp anger on the surface, defeated, tired, sickly. Hajime’s sure he can’t be much better. He watches Nagito tap his fingers against one another, one by one.

“What happened to us?” he ventures after a moment.

“Lots of things that I don’t care to go into yet again. Leave it be, Hinata.”

“Hi…Hinata?”

“That’s your name.”

“I know, but…”

“You can’t expect me to treat you like a friend when that term no longer applies to us. I’d call you Lord Hinata but you’re not really a Noble anymore, are you?”

“So I’m supposed to call you Komaeda now?”

“Up to you.”

Hajime looks at his hands. He knows he’s just as guilty as Nagito – Komaeda – in letting things get this way, and he’s still definitely pissed, but…this just doesn’t seem right.

He wonders, once again, if he’d rather go back to being totally numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to let me know if you have a song request for my songfic series. Love you guys!


	31. Frigidity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD HELLO I AM NOT DEAD  
> I feel like it's been forever since I updated! I've been so busy, and I've had to update other works, as well. I'm also beginning to figure skate and if I want to do it competitively even though I'm starting so late I've got to work my ass off and diet and all that. BUT! I should stop making excuses!  
> I hope this chapter makes up for all of the time I've been away. I don't know if it will - it's certainly not the lighthearted one I promise will come soon maybe - but it's much more interesting than the last few, in my opinion.   
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s cold.

Cold.

Cold.

He’s cold.

The word rings in Hajime’s ears, slamming into the inside of his skull with every beat of his racing heart. He stares at the sky, the snow frigid beneath him, so cold it feels like his back is burning, though he’s lost most feeling in his limbs. Flakes from the heavy clouds above – turned purple by the fading sunlight – flutter onto his eyelashes, his lips, his nose. He wonders how long they will take to cover him if he just lies here.

He’s so cold.

With a hoarse grunt of effort, he flings his forearm across his eyes, dumping even more snow on his face, and closes his eyes. Nagito left a long time ago. Yesterday, maybe, right as the storm rolled in. As far as Hajime knows, he hasn’t come back at all. Maybe he’s dead.

He’s not sure why, but the thought sends a spike of worry through the tangled mess of his thoughts.

He supposes it must be because he doesn’t want to die alone. Right now, the company of another person, even if they hated him, would be something of a comfort. He’s starting to feel warm at his core, and he’s pretty sure that’s not good. Not that it’s unpleasant, though. He likes it. It suddenly strikes him that he’s not shivering anymore.

Chiaki’s gone, and he can’t seem to get her to come back today. Has she given up on him, too? He knows he has.

The wind, which has died down a lot since last night, rushes through the tops of the trees around him, surrounding him in a chorus of creaks and rustling, the only noise in the empty forest. He’s still alone.

Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t want to die alone. Maybe he just doesn’t want to die. He can almost feel all of his systems shutting down, the constant activity inside him that’s kept him alive until now slowly fading, until his body is just as silent as the forest around him. He can’t remember the last time he had anything in his life worth enjoying. Maybe if he dies he’ll see Chiaki, or Chisa. Maybe Nagito.

No, he decides. It’s the “maybe” that’s scaring him the most. The maybe. It’s the loudest word in his head right now besides “cold” and there are so many possibilities tied to two simple syllables that he just feels overwhelmed. Maybe he’ll see Chiaki. Maybe he’ll see Chisa. Maybe he’ll go to hell and burn for all of eternity. Maybe there’s nothing after death. Maybe he’ll be reincarnated. Maybe, when his life flashes before his life like it’s supposed to, maybe he’ll see Nagito again, too. Maybe he’ll relive their time together. Maybe they’ll fall in love again. Maybe this time he can change things, except it’ll all be in his head, and he’ll be dead before he can tell the living Nagito where they went wrong and how they can be friends again. Maybe Nagito’s dead after all and they’ll have to make up wherever they end up going. If they go anywhere. Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe Nagito is a dream. Because Nagito would be a dream, not a nightmare. Maybe he’s been hallucinating the past year and he’s been dying, half-buried in a snowdrift, for the hour or so it must have taken his frozen brain to dream that all up. Maybe.

It’s too much. He can feel tears welling in his eyes, but they freeze before they can even spill onto his cheeks, and he does his best approximation of a wince, though no one is there to see him.

He’s cold.

This definitely isn’t what he expected. After what has to be a year of running from Junko and collaborating with Monokuma, then realizing Junko is Monokuma and running from Monokuma too, he definitely thought he’d be executed or tortured or something. Maybe it’d be meaningful in some way. He snorts with laughter. Meaningful. As if anything in his life was ever meaningful.

Hey. Maybe Yuki’s dead, too. Maybe he’ll get to see Yuki. “No,” he mutters. Too many maybes. He doesn’t want Yuki to be dead. He wants to see him again, but he doesn’t want him to die.

Too many hes and hims, too. He’s not sure who he’s thinking about anymore.

He’s not even sure he’s thinking anymore.

The wind is still quiet, the trees still loud. Too loud. He wishes they’d shut up. He’s tired. He’s warming up, too. He likes it. It feels nice. He’s much more comfortable than he’s been for the past two days, and he closes is eyes, smiling softly. It’s so warm. He could’ve sworn snow was supposed to be cold. This is much better.

Someone calls his name, but he simply makes a small dissatisfied noise and squeezes his eyes shut tight. Whoever it is should go away. He’s trying to sleep. He just wants to sleep. He’s tired.

“…jime! Hey, can you hear me?”

Someone pulls Hajime’s forearm down to his chest, and Hajime can just barely feel the person’s hand on his wrist. He doesn’t move. Maybe they’ll go away if they think he’s asleep.

“Hajime! Hajime, if you die, I swear…” The person’s shaking him now, desperation creeping into their voice. The voice is familiar, but Hajime can’t quite put his finger on it. Who is it? Does he know this person? “Hajime, please. Wake up!”

Hajime sighs, breath rattling in his lungs, and extends one arm, trying to push the person away from him. His arm moves in halting, jerky motions, weakly brushing the stranger’s clothes before thudding to the ground; he can’t keep it up. “Hajime!” the person breathes. Hajime forces his eyes open and squints up at the blurry figure leaning over him. As they come into focus, he frowns in confusion. “Nagito?”

“Yeah. Thank god. I thought you were dead for a second there.” Nagito reaches behind him for a dark lump sitting on top of the snow.

Hajime frowns even more deeply. “Why…?”

Nagito says nothing, instead wrapping a thick blanket around Hajime, followed by the ragged tarp that used to be their tent. He furrows his brow with worry. “How long have you been lying here?”

“Dunno,” Hajime slurs. “You’re…um.” He can’t think of the word.

“Don’t talk.” Nagito looks around nervously. “I don’t know how to help you.”

“Nice,” Hajime concludes, remembering what he was trying to say. “You’re…nice.”

“Huh?” Nagito cocks an eyebrow uncertainly. “Just…stop talking. You’re wasting energy.” He looks down at his lap and rubs his hands together, worrying his lower lip as his eyes narrow.

Hajime’s just fine with that. He lies in silence, his eyelids drifting down again, but before he can fall asleep Nagito claps sharply beside his ear. He glares at Nagito. “Hey. I’m…tired.”

“I know. Don’t fall asleep. That’s worse than talking.” He climbs to his feet. “I’m going to get help. You’re not going to survive much longer like this.”

“Huh?” He frowns. There’s a reason they haven’t gone for help yet. Right? What was it?

“I’ll be back. Don’t fall asleep. Please.”

Hajime glares at him, but he makes a small affirmative noise. Nagito nods, sighing with relief, and the next moment he’s gone. He’s disappeared into the trees, leaving Hajime alone again with the snow.

So Nagito isn’t dead.

Is…that good?

He decides yes, that’s good.

He won’t fall asleep. As much as he hates it, if Nagito says he needs to stay awake, he will. He narrows his eyes. Fucking Nagito.

His eyelids grow heavier and heavier as time passes. He has no way of knowing how long he lies there, waiting, especially with his cold-addled mind’s distorted perception of time, but it seems like several small eternities that he’s constantly forcing his eyes open, clinging to the tiny bit of warmth the blanket offers him as he struggles to anchor his consciousness somewhere stable, in thoughts of Nagito and Yuki and Chiaki – though it’s harder to stay awake when he thinks of her. He can feel his muscles twitch every so often, like they’re trying to shiver to retain warmth, but they’re too tired. He’s too tired. He’s expended far too much energy to keep himself warm a moment longer. He’s thirsty, too, and now there are even more maybes than before. Maybe he’ll die, maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll see Nagito again. Maybe Nagito will never come back for him. Maybe Nagito will be killed when he goes to find someone to help them – oh, right, that’s why they were avoiding people – and maybe they’ll come and kill Hajime, too. Maybe he’ll just lie here forever, not dying but hovering on the brink for the rest of time. Maybe. Cold. Maybe.

It’s a relief this time when he hears someone call his name. Two people. It’s Nagito, and not Nagito. A boy, though? Maybe? Why are they calling his name? Nagito knows he’s here, right?

The snow crunches beneath someone’s feet, and he hears the nervous stamp of hooves as someone runs toward him. He blinks upward at the two figures leaning over him, both slight and skinny. One’s Nagito. The other is… “Lord…Naegi?”

The younger boy’s face comes into focus, a worried frown on his face. “Hinata! Are you okay?” He looks over at Nagito. “Can you carry him?”

Nagito furrows his brow, but he nods and kneels, sliding his arms beneath Hajime’s shoulders and knees. He stands. “You’re really light,” he says with surprise. “I’m not that strong.”

Hajime hums vaguely in response, muttering something about trying to walk, but both of the other boys shake their heads and hurry over to where they left their horses. They manage to prop Hajime up in front of Nagito, Nagito’s arms around his waist, his chest pressed against Hajime’s back. Makoto mounts his own horse and without a word they race into the trees.

“Tracks,” Hajime mumbles.

“Can’t be helped,” Nagito says, his voice right next to his ear. “It’s snowy and we don’t have time to cover them. We just have to hope it snows a lot soon.”

“Or it all melts,” Makoto says.

 

It doesn’t take them long to reach Makoto’s manor. Traveling everywhere on foot for months can do a lot to change a person’s perception of distance. That, and almost freezing to death.

Nagito carries him to a sofa right in front of a fireplace in Makoto’s sitting room and sits down beside him, his arms around Hajime to warm him up, though his body is rigid, and he seems intent on avoiding any sort of direct contact with Hajime’s skin. Makoto has his cook – a pretty, bright young girl with a long brown ponytail and a fit, athletic build – make something warm for Hajime and goes upstairs to grab some dry clothes.

Hajime’s regained a bit of clarity by the time he gets back. “Why are you helping me?”

Makoto tilts his head. “We’re both on the same side, aren’t we?” he asks, eyes wide and curious. Suddenly he looks much more than a year younger than Hajime. Hajime blinks at the thought. Wait. If Makoto is more than a year younger, and his parents have moved out by now…that means Hajime is eighteen now. When was his birthday? When did that happen? What day is it? It’s winter. Did he just turn eighteen? Or is he about to turn nineteen? He’s completely lost track of time.

“That…depends,” Hajime says.

“Hinata, wanted posters with your face on them are all over the city. And Nagito’s, now.” He smiles. “I’m no happier about Junko and the Intendant than you are. If you somehow rebelled or something, I think we’re on the same side.”

Hajime stares at him incredulously, his eyes darting to the other boy’s waist, searching for a Monokuma dagger. “You’re not Monokuma.”

Makoto shakes his head. “I don’t trust them.”

This is so confusing. Hajime doesn’t know whether he can trust Makoto more or less based on this new information. Or if he can trust him at all. “You’re just going to turn me in to Junko.”

“Huh?” Makoto blinks, looking genuinely offended. “I’d never do that!”

Hajime nods slowly. “Right,” he says, drawing out the syllable suspiciously. “I have no reason to trust you.”

“I’m trying to help you, Hinata.”

“Are you?”

Nagito stands up. Hajime’s not nearly as cold anymore, and Nagito seems eager to escape any physical contact with him. “This is going nowhere,” he says. “Lord Naegi, don’t you have any proof that we can trust you?” At Makoto’s surprised look, Nagito rolls his eyes and lets his head fall to one side. “I know I came to you of my own volition. I have my reasons. But if you want us to stay and you’re really on our side, we need proof.”

Makoto sighs, his shoulders falling, and nods. “Hey…Hina?”

His cook appears immediately in the doorway. As far as Hajime can tell, she’s the only servant here. He frowns. That’s odd. A Noble of Makoto’s status should have almost the entire peasantry at his disposal. “Yes?” she chirps.

“Do you know where Byakuya’s letters are?”

She nods.

Hajime stares at him. “Byakuya…Togami? You mean…?”

Makoto nods sadly. “Would you mind going to grab them? I can if you’re busy, but…”

She shakes her head. “You got it!” She hurries off, her ponytail swinging behind her.

“Why…?”

“He was…” Makoto shrugs, his big green eyes fixed on a faint stain on the immaculate beige carpet. “He was close to me.”

“Close to you? The Intendant?”

“Yeah. He was.” He looks up. The look in his eyes is so full of pain, full of sadness, that Hajime wonders if the Intendant – Byakuya – had been closer to him than most friends tended to be. Close like Hajime and Nagito used to be. Hajime looks over at Nagito, who glances away pointedly.

Hina scurries back into the room with a giant stack of papers and sets them on the coffee table. As she leaves, she touches Makoto gently on the shoulder, her eyes full of sympathy. Once she’s gone, he crosses the room and picks up a few, crossing the room to hand a few to Nagito and Hajime. They both stare at him for a moment before looking down at the letters. The handwriting is unmistakably the old Intendant’s. The dead one.

 

_Makoto,_

_I’m going to cut to the chase, because I don’t have any good news for you. I want you to be careful. We all need to, but Nobles in particular are in a lot of danger. Monokuma is quickly increasing its scope and soon there will hardly be a person under our jurisdiction who has not fallen prey to their schemes or joined their ranks. You might be a member, I don’t know. I doubt you would tell me, but if you are, make sure you never speak to me again. You’re one of the very few people I never want to hurt, so if you could escape and slip into the shadows, I wouldn’t be forced to kill you._

_But anyway, there’s almost no chance they won’t claim their victory over the king’s forces if they try to rise up. I don’t support his regime or pretend to submit to the subjugation he wants to force us into, but from what my men undercover have gleaned, what they have in store for the country after they’re finished with their regicide is far worse than anything this nation has suffered to date. I think someone in our ranks has become the head of their organization, and I have a hunch as to who it is. I bet you do, too._

_Several Intendants from other regions have agreed to meet with me regarding the organization’s rapid expansion and how we can combat it. We plan to assemble in the capital in a week. I am going without guards, however, as we are all wary that our comrades may be in league with these monsters. This letter may be a warning, but it also might be a goodbye. Traveling like this is, as you know, very dangerous, whether or not there are huge masses of people who want me dead so that they can take over this sorry kingdom._

_So, Makoto, if this is goodbye, I regret that I never got to see you one last time, but as it is, I couldn’t meet you without turning the suspicions of the most powerful rebel group this country has ever seen onto you. I am not the nicest person – in fact, I do not think it is going too far to say that I am one of the rudest people I know – and I know that I can be abrasive and arrogant, and you are one of the most infuriating people I’ve ever met, and you drive me insane on a daily basis even when you’re not here, but you’re resilient, and you’re strong. You’re not stupid. I’m sorry that I have to leave you like this, and I won’t get to tell you in person everything I’d like to say, but as it isn’t a guarantee that this is the last correspondence you will receive from me, I’ll keep those words to myself so that I have something to hold onto if I run into trouble._

_Good day, Makoto, and I hope to see you again._

_Byakuya Togami_

Hajime’s throat has gone dry. He holds the letter up, turned toward Makoto so the younger boy can see it, and licks his lips. “Is…is this…?”

Makoto nods. “That’s the last letter I received from him, other than the one I got…the day he died.” He carefully pulls the sheet of paper on the very bottom out and hands it to Hajime with a sigh. The yellowed paper is torn, most of it stained with dark crimson, and Hajime winces. It’s covered over with hurried, almost panicked scratches, but one single tiny word very close to the edge, written diagonally across the paper, remains visible: _love._ Hajime looks up at Nagito again and then back at Makoto. “What happened?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. The moment I opened the envelope I went straight to his manor, but Enoshima and Ikusaba had already set up shop. I don’t know if he ever even made it to the meeting.”

Hajime examines the paper carefully. “I got one of these, too, actually.”

Makoto blinks in surprise, eyes widening. “You did? Was it exactly the same?”

“No, it wasn’t. It didn’t have nearly as much…” He pauses and clears his throat. He was about to say _nearly as much blood on it_ but he realizes that’d be distasteful. “Uh…it just said to prepare for war.”

“Prepare for war?” Makoto frowns, tapping his lips with one index finger. “Hm…I wonder why he sent it to you. I wonder if all of the Nobles got one?”

“I doubt it,” Nagito chimes in. “It looks like he was in…kind of a hurry. He wouldn’t have had time to write eight letters.”

The furrow in Makoto’s brow deepens. “So chances are it’s just me and Hinata. Did you ever speak with him directly?” he asks Hajime.

“I don’t think so.”

Makoto nods slowly. “Maybe he had some reason to trust you more than anyone else?”

Hajime spreads his arms wide. “I don’t know what that would be. I was the lowest-ranked Noble in the city, I’d never spoken with him, I was kind of Junko’s bitch…he had every reason to believe I was also part of Monokuma. Which I eventually was.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. And when I figured out Junko was behind all of it, they imprisoned me and Nagito.”

Makoto looks like someone’s just punched him in the face. “So…she really was…?”

Nagito nods. “She was.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Makoto sinks into an armchair with a heavy sigh. “I guess I knew it, but…I was hoping it was someone else. She and Mukuro and I used to play when we were little, and there was always something off about her, but…I kind of thought that she might not be such a terrible person deep down.”

Hajime shrugs. “What can we do?” he asks with resignation.

Nagito glances at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what can we do about it? She’s already amassed a following larger than even the king’s military. There’s not really a lot we can do to fight her. And more than half of Monokuma don’t even know who their leader is, so even if we took her out somehow it wouldn’t even slow them down.”

Now Nagito and Makoto are both staring at him in horror. “You want to just roll over and let her destroy everything?” Nagito asks, his grey gaze darkening. “You’re weaker than I thought.” Makoto’s fists are clenched so tightly around the arms of his chair that his knuckles have turned white. He says nothing, but Hajime can see the anger, the frustration in his eyes.

Hajime shakes his head. “She’ll get bored. She always does.”

“She killed Byakuya,” Makoto says quietly. “She won't stop until she’s killed thousands more.”

“She’ll kill us, too!”

“We know!” Makoto holds his hands out, palms up imploringly. “But that’s no reason not to try. We might die anyway.”

“This way we have no chance.”

“And neither does the rest of the country. We don’t even know who to trust anymore. If we let ourselves stoop to cowardice we might be in for something a whole lot worse than anything we might suffer trying to stop Junko. Please, Hinata…”

Nagito sits down on the arm of Hajime’s sofa. “Look at it this way,” he says, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Wouldn’t it be incredible to watch something beautiful rise out of all of this destruction and despair? I, personally, am going after Junko. And the king. I can’t wait to see what this country could become without those two around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole thing.”

Makoto drops his hands into his lap. “Hinata…I know how much Nagito means to you. When you visited my district…you seemed really close. You reminded me of…” Makoto shakes his head roughly. Hajime glances rapidly at Nagito, who’s watching the snow fall outside through the window. “What would you do if someone hurt him?”

“Not give a damn, apparently,” Nagito says without looking their way.

Hajime glares at him.

“What do you mean?” Makoto asks Nagito.

“He thought I was dead for six full months and didn’t care.”

“Shut up,” Hajime growls. “That’s not what happened.”

Nagito looks at him now. “Huh?”

Makoto tilts his head. “Do you see my point or did I overestimate your feelings for him?”

“Those feelings don’t exist anymore,” he says firmly, though he’s not quite sure that’s true. “But I see your point.”

“So…?”

He rubs one hand across his forehead. “I don’t know.”

“Hinata, I don’t know how we’re going to do this with just two people.”

“I don’t know how you’d do it with three either. Can I think about it?”

Reluctantly, Makoto nods. “I…guess that’s fine. Thanks for considering it.”

Hajime stands and leaves the room, overwhelmed. He doesn’t know what to do.

What is he supposed to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I know what you're thinking. "Rin, all of your chapters have been barely over a thousand words! Where did this four thousand word monstrosity come from?" I have no idea! I just didn't know where to stop! Will this become a regular thing? Who knows? But I hope the length, at the very least, made up for my brief hiatus.   
> Don't forget to leave a song if you want me to write to it for my songfic series! Thanks for reading!


	32. Remedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK WHO'S BACK  
> BACK AGAIN  
> I've probably already used that somewhere, oh well.  
> Hello again! It's so great to be working on this fic again. I was planning on writing all of the requests I'd gotten for my songfic series before I updated either of my ongoing works, and then I looked on here and realized it'd been almost a month since I'd last update No Replacements! As of today, it really has been a month! Yikes! So I immediately got to work on the next chapter. This one is literally just 2500 words of them standing in the snow and talking, but I hope it at least somewhat makes up for how painfully long it's been since I last updated. Hope you enjoy!

Hajime creeps through the small stand of oaks beside the fence, the trees’ trunks rough and splintery beneath his fingers as he lets his hands skim across their bark. A forceful gust of wind sets them quivering and groaning, and he pauses, the crunch of hard-packed snow beneath his feet falling suddenly silent, but he’s almost certain he hears it echo faintly behind him. He swallows nervously, letting the dying breeze whip his disheveled hair around his face for a moment. Who could be following him? Here, of all places? Makoto’s manor is out in the middle of nowhere, and Hajime hasn’t gotten very far from it. He can’t have been walking for more than ten minutes or so. Curling his fingers around the small switchblade he’s taken to carrying around, he lets out a small sigh and trudges forward again, walking right up to the fence and hopping over it into a snowdrift. Tiny flakes cling to the rough black fabric of his pants. He exhales slowly through his nose, trying to calm his racing heartbeat; his pursuer has almost definitely already figured out who he is, where he’s staying, so he has nothing to hide. The best thing he can do right now is wait for them to go away so he can run back and warn Makoto before he leaves to find somewhere else to take shelter for now.

Goddammit. He runs a hand through his hair as he keeps plodding forward. He’d thought that maybe he’d found a place to stay, at least for a while. A place to recover, to get his thoughts together and live in peace for as long as he could. If the person following him has found out who he is…he’s going to have to get out of here. And fast.

He halts again as he’s struck by a sudden realization. He glances back over his shoulder. Is it possible that whoever it is has been following him since he left the manor? He only noticed them a minute or two ago, but he supposes he might not actually be very good at sensing another’s presence. It’s likely they’ve been following him for much longer than he thought. But what if they _aren’t_ Makoto or Hina or Nagito? He doesn’t want to screw up. He whips around, his gaze just catching the flash of a shadow darting between the trees before it vanishes. He narrows his eyes in suspicion. Taking a deep breath – _please be Makoto or Hina, please be Makoto or Hina –_ he calls out, “Who’s there?” When there’s no response, he shuffles his feet anxiously. “I know you’re there. Come out.”

There’s a muffled groan from the shadows of the oaks. A familiar figure steps out from behind a tree and into the dim starlight, jumping the fence to stand facing Hajime just a few feet away, his hand on his hip, his expression dark and unreadable. Hajime groans, too. It’s Nagito. He folds his arms across his chest and looks his former friend up and down disdainfully. “Oh,” he says finally, his voice low and disappointed.

“Oh? Who were you hoping to see? One of your Monokuma friends?”

Hajime mulls this over with a quiet hum. “Not you.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Oh, shut up.” A long, awkward silence passes between them, their gazes wary, calculating, as they size each other up, like cats before a fight. Hajime wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if they started to circle one another. But they don’t. He finally just shrugs and turns away, setting off again, more quickly this time.

“Where are you going?” Nagito asks.

The wind dies down, and, craning his head to look back at Nagito, Hajime brushes his hair away from his face as it settles against his freezing skin. “Why should I tell you?”

“Come on.”

“I’m not going to snitch about your little plan. I’d just get myself thrown in a prison cell right along with you. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what? Don’t tell me you’re actually worried for my safety?” He grits his teeth. “Because I don’t believe that for a second.”

Nagito rolls his eyes. “No, of course not.”

“Then what is it?”

“‘Why should I tell you?’” Nagito says mockingly.

Hajime shakes his head. “Then leave me alone, would you?”

“As you wish, _Lord Hinata,”_ Nagito sneers with a mock bow, and he turns away. Hajime sighs with relief and is starting forward again when he hears a quiet “Hajime…I…” behind him. He whips around, staring at Nagito, who’s beating snow off of the bottoms of his shoes against the fence, his expression carefully guarded. He glances at Hajime with a bright, artificial smile. “Never mind!” he laughs.

Hajime’s heart sinks and he rubs his temples. “You make my head hurt.”

“Really? I can’t say the same for you. You’re really quite simple.”

“What were you going to say, Komaeda?” Hajime practically snarls the other boy’s name.

“It’s of no concern to you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is of concern to me. Everything you say concerns me.”

“Oh, wordplay? Was that intentional?”

“Maybe.”

After a beat, Nagito cracks up, doubling over with laughter. It’s a sound Hajime hasn’t heard in a long time, and he’s not prepared for the avalanche of conflicting emotions it sets off. “You’re the same as ever!”

“Am I?”

“ _Exactly.”_ Nagito stresses every syllable carefully. “I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you.”

Hajime snorts. “Maybe you didn’t. Ever.”

“Hm?”

“Knowing you, you probably had some ulterior motive for hanging around and making me fall in love with you.”

“That was your fault, not mine.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t try.”

“Yeah, I tried, but you fell for it.”

“Oh, so you admit that wasn’t your only goal?”

Nagito squares his shoulders. “No, I don’t admit that. What would I have to gain by making a low-ranking rebel Noble fall in love with a low-life thief like me? Not to mention I killed your girlfriend, according to you.”

“A place to live? Clothes? Food you didn’t have to steal? You had a lot to gain, dumbass.”

“You gave those to me anyway. I didn’t need you to love me for that to happen.”

Hajime shakes his head again. “I can’t believe you’ve been so intent on making my life a living hell and now you’re trying to convince me you really did love me.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. At least I’m not dead.”

“Sometimes I wish you were.” The moment the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. There aren’t a lot of lines they haven’t crossed, but this is one of them. Nagito’s mouth drops open, his eyes widening, the confident, condescending set of his shoulders collapsing so it looks like he’s physically shrinking in on himself, hurt – real hurt – shimmering in his dark eyes. “Komae…Nagito,” Hajime begins, trying to take it back, but Nagito brightens before he can say anything else.

“No need to apologize, Hinata, we’re not friends anymore, right? Sometimes I wish you were dead too!” His smile is too wide, too bright.

Hajime swallows past the knot in his throat. He can’t believe he said that. He…it’s astounding to him that he could’ve even thought that. But he has thought that. Many times, after an argument or a long, silent exchange of angry looks and rude gestures, or just a bad day that he wanted to blame on someone, anyone other than himself. He’s thought it a lot, but it’s always lacked the venom, the real hatred for his former friend he wishes he could muster up like Nagito clearly does to him. He wishes he could take the words back. They’re not true, they’re a lie, they’re the most mean-spirited things he thinks he’s ever said to Nagito, and he wishes he could turn back time and forget this ever happened, forget the pain in Nagito’s eyes, the guilt twisting in Hajime’s belly…

Wait, what? He stands stock still in confusion. Why is he thinking like this? He doesn’t care how Nagito feels. He’s not supposed to. He doesn’t care about any of this. “At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you every day if I were,” he snarls with far more animosity than any of this has warranted.

No, wait! Shit! He did it again. Why is he doing this? Why does he care? What’s going on? He’s confusing himself.

Nagito’s smile widens. “Lucky you, huh? It’d be a real win-win situation, I guess. Maybe I really _should_ kill you. I mean, why not?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t? I already killed Chiaki. I don’t see anything stopping me.”

“You didn’t kill Chiaki,” Hajime says quietly. “And…you’re starting to sound like Junko.”

This gives the taller boy pause. Hajime groans and slumps down into the snow. This conversation is exhausting. Why did Nagito have to follow him out here? “I didn’t kill Chiaki?” Nagito asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“No, you didn’t. You said so yourself.”

“But you were so adamant that it was all my fault she died.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t. There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”

“…Huh.” Nagito hops up to sit on the fence, and Hajime looks up at him to see his face full of…relief?

“Huh what?”

“A couple of things. You don’t blame me anymore, and you went straight from saying you’d rather be dead than have to deal with me to assuring me that your girlfriend’s death wasn’t my fault. And you’ve been so angry at me for a while and now you don’t seem angry.” He smirks. “Maybe you can make my head hurt sometimes too.”

“I’ve been angry at you because you’ve been such an asshole to me!”

“ _There_ it is.”

“And I don’t blame you because it wasn’t your fault. Rest assured, I’m not trying to make you feel better.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“Why?”

“Yeah. Why.”

“A few reasons.”

Hajime waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “…And?” he prompts.

“And I don’t see why I need to justify myself to you.”

“You don’t see why?” Hajime narrows his eyes.

“No, I don’t. It’s none of your business anyway.”

“None of my business?”

“I don’t need an echo – ”

_“Of course it’s my business!”_ Hajime roars, surprising himself, and, evidently, Nagito, who almost loses his balance on the fence with the force of Hajime’s outburst. “This isn’t you! I don’t understand why the _fuck_ you’re being so awful and why I’m being so awful and what the hell is happening with us right now but this isn’t you! This isn’t me, either! I don’t usually tell people I wish they were dead! I mean, honestly. I even meant it! And I don’t even actually hate you. What the fuck? What is going _on?_ How did this even _start?_ And I don’t want any of your evasive _bullshit_ because I am sick and tired of you!” For once, Nagito seems at a loss for words, his brow furrowed in confusion. Hajime sighs exasperatedly and flops backwards into the snow, shivering as it pricks at his bare neck. “Whatever. Just go away.”

“I didn’t want it to get this bad,” Nagito admits quietly.

“Yeah, well.”

“It was something you told me.”

“I don’t care, Komaeda.”

“You just made it very clear that you do. So.” Nagito stretches his arms above his head lazily, taking his time, and it’s obvious to Hajime that the other boy is just stalling. “You said that the only time you really felt something while you were with Monokuma, after you shut down, was when you were angry. When you would get really angry, so angry you actually hurt people.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“You were so apathetic and unhelpful and…” There’s a pause, and Hajime can hear Nagito swallow. “Yeah. I wanted to make you angry.”

Hajime studies him, raising one eyebrow in disbelief. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

“And then why did it keep happening?”

“It was working. And I got in the habit. And when you started responding, it made _me_ angry. It was – is – one big downward spiral. I have to say, I’m pretty surprised to hear you say you don’t really hate me. It _was_ my fault, after all.”

“I couldn’t hate you. I thought I could.”

Nagito hums. “And I’m sure I could hate you if I wanted to, but I don’t.”

“That’s a surprise.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“No, it really is.” Hajime sits up again, the collar of his shirt soaking and frigid. “I’ve thought for a pretty long time now that you hated me. But…you don’t even _want_ to hate me?”

“No, of course not.”

Hajime throws his hands up. “What the fuck? I’m so confused.”

“Me too!”

He rubs his forehead resignedly. “Where is this conversation even going?”

“My guess is nowhere.”

“Great. Would you go away now?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake, just leave me alone!”

“You’re swearing more than usual,” Nagito remarks.

“It’s because of you!” He runs a hand through his hair. “Why can’t we just go back to the way we used to be?”

Nagito studies him wordlessly for a moment before stepping forward and kneeling in front of him. Hajime is just about to ask him what he’s doing when Nagito smirks and leans forward, kissing Hajime fiercely. Hajime’s eyes fly wide and he shoves Nagito away so hard they both tumble backwards. Hajime scrambles to his feet, wiping his mouth, gesturing wildly. “What the hell?” he gasps.

Nagito looks up at him and shrugs. “That’s why. You’d push me away. And I’d have done the same to you.”

“I didn’t mean right _away!”_

“No, you didn’t, but knowing you, I’m sure that’s what you were thinking. For it all to just magically be okay again.”

Hajime goes quiet, his hands falling to his sides. Nagito has a point. He didn’t have to make it like _that,_ but he’s right.   
Nagito climbs to his feet, brushing snow off of the backs of his legs. “And besides, I’m not entirely sure we haven’t messed it all up irreparably. We’re never going to be exactly the same.”

“I know that.”

“I know you do.” He spreads his hands in front of him, palms up. “Well, this isn’t what I came out here for, so I guess I’ll take my leave. Your lordship,” he adds.

“Wait. Why _did_ you come out here?”

“To make sure you don’t freeze again. You almost died last time. But if you’d really rather die than see my face every day, who am I to stop you?” He laughs quietly as he turns back toward the fence and climbs over it, landing in the snow with a soft crunch on the other side. “See you never, I guess. Have fun dying.”

“I hate you,” Hajime calls after him.

“No, you don’t,” he calls back.

Hajime hesitates, looking back over his shoulder at the pristine white landscape. The silence is tempting, and he can feel it tugging at him, begging him to keep walking, to lose himself in the cold and white until morning comes and he goes back to Makoto’s. But…he lets out an exasperated breath and jogs after Nagito. “Wait up!”

Nagito halts in the shadow of the trees, looking back at him in surprise. “What?”

“I’ll come back with you.”

“With me? Why?”

Hajime walks past him, not saying anything for a moment. “I have to make sure you don’t freeze to death,” he says, looking over at his former friend and almost – _almost_ – smiling.

Nagito lifts one shoulder, following him. “Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Now, I'd like to make an announcement that some of you may already be aware of. I'm extending my songfic series to include other fandoms, so it's no longer just limited to DR! I've already gotten a couple of Attack on Titan and Yuri!!! on Ice requests (thanks to porkcutletfatale and okoku, love you both!). I'd be happy to take requests for any fandom I happen to be a part of, so just let me know if you've got something for me and I'll gladly take your request! And I at least _feel_ like I'm pretty well-versed in fandom, so I hope I can write whatever you've got for me! Thanks so much! I love you guys!


End file.
